Among waves
by Sam Seven
Summary: More than a year ago, Delilah Copperspoon attempted a coup to take over the throne from Jessamine Kaldwin. Corvo managed to trap her in a painting but in one last revenge, Delilah changed Emily into a mermaid, condemning her to hide in the seas of Serkonos. Sokolov remembers a brilliant and unscrupulous former student to perhaps realize the unimaginable. [Jindosh/Emily]
1. Prologue

**NOTE**

Since FF is limited about description, more details: this is an Emdosh (Kirin Jindosh x Emily Kaldwin) fic, Jessamine is alive and happy with Corvo (how good!) and Billie is with an OC. It's an AU but stiiiill, a death could be the start of anything, you'll maybe understand.

The rating M is of course for the mature writing but also some sensitive subjects. Now that you're warned, _bonne lecture_!

[+]

I wanted to thank Madman301 on Tumblr for his help and his kindness for assisting me in the translation of this fic. I'm French and write it in my native language first, so some sentences sounded odd in English, so thanks to him, this fic is easier to understand for English readers now!

I also thank my bear boyfriend: as a cutlery maker, his knowledge about wood and metal helped me alot! I'm almost able to build some Jindosh's Soldiers, now.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

Eyes closed, Jessamine was rocked by waves' song. She could hear them far away, soft and peaceful, teasing rocks on which they were falling. After plentiful rainy days, weather had become merciful again and, despite late evening, she was not cold.

When the Empress opened her eyes again, she faced oblivion: night has eaten the whole world. Although it was not right: sometimes, far away, the moon revealed waves' foamy beards, making it twinkle.

The chord was hypnotic. Did Emily listen to it too? Did she compose it?

"Jessamine."

Corvo kneeled near his lover, but she turned away her face, fading to shadows.

"Come to bed."

"I worry so much, Corvo. It had been sixteen months."

"I know. But sleeping on the balcony will not help her, she—"

 _She is trapped between the waves_. The Royal Protector did not dare to add this. His fingers skimmed Jessamine's hand. They were not happy parents, mourning ones neither. They had lost her daughter but Emily was not dead for all that.

Jessamine finally rose and turned her back to rolling black waters. She ended up hating them.

In the huge Dunwall Tower's room, she started to undress behind a screen, but she felt Corvo's gaze and she asked him to turn away. They had this exchange since several months, or rather this absence of talk.

"But you—"

"Corvo. I don't want you to look at me."

He stepped back like a guard who just have been ordered as the loving man could not comfort her. In the dark, Jessamine removed her shirt, then her pants. The suit, the underwear, then the scars. In the mirror, she stared at the claw marks over her shoulder: rose's thorns of an unthinkable side had butchered her skin. One of them had hit her cheek and since, Jessamine felt like a side of her face was made of cotton. Delilah's witches had really enjoyed the Empress covered with blood and disfiguration. They had laughed, wondering if their work would be represented on the coins and the marble busts.

Near her desk, there was an immense portrait of the Empress and her daughter at 10. Anton Sokolov, the artist, had managed to capture the glimpse of maternal love in Jessamine's eyes that day. But today, no painter, not even the greatest one, could grasp her dreadful tears.

"You are still beautiful for me, Jessamine."

The Empress was approaching her fifties: she had imagined being marked by wrinkles or liver spots. Instead, fresh wounds had degraded her portrait. She frankly doubted Corvo could think of her as pretty at least, but hearing the compliment relieved her. Knowing he still loved her with the same passion than thirty years ago made her smile.

She laid to bed by his side, she laid between his arms and let him close her to his heart. Corvo said again how he loved her, scars or not, how much he loved the family they had started and tomorrow, he promised, they will find a solution.

"I swear, Jessamine. I'll do anything to get Emily back."

"I love you, Corvo."

"I love you too."

And outside, the waves were still singing, echoing their murmurs. They were rolling and rolling for kilometers, collinding with boats' hull, taking crustaceans away, hurling themselves to the beach. Emily could feel the flow cradling her. She was not listening to the music: she took part of it. Her body overtook water's curves, her head dove and came out with an acknowledged ease. Under the moon's beams, the scales over her fish-tail were sparkling.

When she had metamorphosed her, Delilah made her unable to inherit the throne, but she made her Empress of Seas. Sometimes sadness took over. Albeit that night was one of those that Emily was joyful, wrapped by the tepid currents around Serkonos.

She missed her parents, she missed Dunwall, but now, Emily was attracted to the waters and her life had become an adventure. She has explored ruins forgotten under the surface, she could swim, warmed by the sun in the water, she had brushed whales and had listened to their romantic complaints. Emily was no longer an heir, she had become a mythological creature, being in line with fascinating stories she was used to read.

It was not selfishness which pushed her away Dunwall, but she had accepted her tail and her new salty universe. Emily did not know how far her father could go to find a cure, she did not know how old Sokolov was wearing his eyes and his joints out on works in vain. She did not know the poor teacher's head was nodding gently, in the middle of the night, above an encyclopedia.

Her head was light and dove again toward the depth.

Tired, exhausted, mind full of contradictions, Anton Sokolov closed the book, muttering. Delilah had shown a rich imagination when she had condemn Emily to be a mermaid, rare and unreal creature. There were no tracts about woman-fish anatomy and, unless they delivered Delilah from her pictorial prison, Sokolov was unaware of the spell which could free Emily.

Other methods existed, delicate, mostly amoral and unsure. With his ancient hands, his glassy eyes and his age, Sokolov could not do anything, but open books. Suddenly, the teacher had an idea, remembering a student he had before.

Absolutely brilliant and absolutely disturbing.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

The dawn painted the sea gray. Far away, Emily caught sight of fishermen on the desk of their boat: the clumsy wavelets made their pace wobbly. On the contrary, the mermaid moved with royal gracefulness, enjoying the quiet waters. She came near until her hands could reach the wood covered with barnacles.

A cough disrupted the peaceful morning, then she heard a spittle. She grimaced. _Gross, could they stop doing it where I bath?_ Since she had become a mermaid, Emily knew every sewer outfall, every port where fish carcasses are pile up and every bridge where assassins and victims usually meet. Spots she carefully avoided.

The sailor threw a net with clumsy moves, so he started anew a few times. Emily jumped at the chance and swam under the hull to reach the other side. She climbed on the ropes then hauled herself until she saw a crate. She knew these fishermen were careless about their good and let their fruits on the edge. Emily grabbed two apples and dropped the cord, falling in the bath with a splashing.

"What?!"

The fish man ran toward the sound then yelled:

"Esteban! Come and see! I'm sure that fat whale is here again!"

"The one who swipe your shoes?"

"He swiped two apples this time!"

Emily should have fled, but the two serkonians kept amusing her. The first one, Pablo, was pretty sure a sperm whale was harassing him, stealing things when some of them simply fell from the deck. The second, Esteban, was more realistic and tried to explain these sea monsters never come near the coasts. Besides, whales were not bullies.

"I tell you he swiped apples!"

"And where d'you see your fat whale? The water is clear like it was in a bottle. We'd saw your whale!"

The fishermen were still arguing when Emily left them, still snorting. The "fat whale" would rather nibble her breakfast, far from their ears. Maybe she will come again next week just to see what they will have in the crates and, mostly, if Pablo and Esteban still neglect their food.

* * *

Anton Sokolov had asked to see Emily's parents very early, so the Empress had postponed all her duties. The philosopher had a proposition but he needed to explain the whole situation before the parents' decision.

Despite the softness of the blue carpets in the Throne Room, Sokolov had trouble to walk. A lumbago was paralyzing his pelvis, he bowed anyway right before Jessamine asked him to not suffer for so little. Corvo quickly brought a seat and made sure the old man did not need anything.

A remarkable genius in a rusty body, that was the talented Sokolov had become. Time has no pity: this tremendous man had found a cure to the Rat Plague, he had changed the face of the world with surprising machines. Yet, time did not forget him and Sokolov was suffering with various aches.

"I thank you for receiving me, your Majesty."

"You're the one thanked, Sokolov, for coming here. You should have asked for Corvo to come to see you."

"No, no, it's fine. I wanted to come for I had an idea about Lady Emily: if you accept, it'll be my last visit to Dunwall, my last trip."

Sokolov remembered Jessamine with precise details, the Empress before the Delilah's coup d'état. She had been a serious yet radiant woman, elegant and firm as well. A true ruler of the Empire. Some white hair had started to grow on her temples and she let a strand dangle on purpose, an attempt to hide the crack on her cheek.

"I would accept anything for Emily, Sokolov, you know that."

"Still, I prefer to give you all the details. If my memory is correct, Lady Emily is swimming near Serkonos, is she?"

"The Dunwall's waters were so cold for her. I'm serkonian and I know how the climate is warmer, so I advised her to go there."

Corvo remembered well: the blue lips of her daughter, her soaked shirt and her stunned eyes. She was shaking in the Wrenhaven River, still shocked by her transformation. He had held her in his arms, staring at this tail so unreal, so awful. And he had watched her, going through the slimy waters, sinking in the gray backwash. Emily had aimed for Cullero's port.

The Royal Protector went two times to his native land. But Jessamine could not leave her throne for too long and she had become so fragile, Corvo never had the heart to leave her alone.

"I'm certain Serkonos' climate is better for her. Actually, I know someone living in Karnaca, a chance if we think Emily is already in the vicinity. A former student with a great talent—", Sokolov marked a pause. He stared at Corvo's dark eyes with a concerned face. "—and not an ounce of morality."

"What do you mean, Sokolov?"

"I imply that pupil ventured to take part to odd experiences, I even could say macabre ones. We can't free Lady Emily from the spell, but maybe an "experiment" may cancel it."

"Surgery?", asked Corvo quite unsure.

"Sort of. That's why I wanted to talk to both of you, your Majesty and Royal Protector. A surgery could be very risky: there is no treatise about mermaid anatomy, however, mastered knowledge about human body and aquatic fauna could be useful. Nonetheless, failure is still possible, but after all the theories I thought about, this is the only one worth considering.

Jessamine was looking at Corvo. She kept her word: she would do anything for Emily, as long her daughter could become what she was once: a young lady on her feet, able to walk on terra firma.

"Who is this former student?"

"His name is Kirin Jindosh. I remember him at the Academy of Natural Philosophy: reserved at first sight, he has surpassed all the other students, even teachers I may add. Sadly, he has always laughed at ethics: Jindosh doesn't care about limits.

"This isn't a comforting description."

"I know, but it's better if I hide you nothing about his personality. Still, believe me: if I talk about Jindosh today, that's because I estimate him clever enough to accomplish this feat. A colleague from the Academy told me Jindosh has made the heart alive and mechanical at the same time, able to whisper thoughts. This heart worked for about fifteen minutes before turning to ash.

"What a strange creation.", raised Jessamine, pensive.

"Even if I lost contact with him, I know he lives in Karnaca and works for the Duke Abele. He just finished his first prototypes of mechanical soldiers, the Clockwork Soldiers."

"I've heard about it.", confirmed Corvo, still doubtful.

"With his knowledge and his skill, Jindosh is able to help Lady Emily: if he had succeeded in an artificial heart, he can certainly create mechanical legs for our heir."

"Let me summarize. What you offer, Sokolov, is someone who will make an ablation of the fish tail and replace it with two functional metal legs? Someone with a lot of talent, regardless of his previous misdeeds because it could be useful?"

"I understand, Corvo, what you mean. But don't forgot one thing: Jindosh has a great mind and an appetite for challenges. You don't need to beg him."

Jessamine suddenly rose.

"I truly thank you, Sokolov, though I'm sorry that is your last visit to Dunwall, we will miss you greatly. But you know our gates will always be open for you."

"Will you— will you ask for Jindosh's help, your Majesty?"

"There's no question about it: we talk about my daughter. My daughter can't go home and she's condemned to live like an animal somewhere in the South. Even if your former student had made some reprehensible acts in the past, he will be forgiven if he do a favor for the royal family.", Jessamine's gaze became severe. "I remember some hearsays about you, Sokolov, some stories about sacrifices for the good of the science, right? Yet, you saved my Empire."

Inventor's skin burned with shame.

"I'll never thank you enough for all your exploits, Sokolov.", the Empress' voice softened, almost maternal. She came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "You have saved so many lives. If Jindosh can save my daughter, I'll be eternally grateful. Oh of course, I'll insure myself against future amoral researches."

After Sokolov's departure, Jessamine informed Corvo of the letter she will send to Kirin Jindosh the same day: she will explain the situation and ask him to wait for the Royal Protector's visit.

"If he refuses, you'll arrest him immediately. But I trust Sokolov: if he judges his former pupil enough arrogant to accept a challenge, then you don't need to be persuasive, just give him all the answers he needs. As for the Duke Abele, I'll politely ask him to lend me his Inventor."

"You'll make the effort to ask 'politely'? I hope it won't cost you too much."

"I've always hated his sexist manners, but I always enjoy to give him orders he can't ignore."

Jessamine was still the Empress: she lifted her shoulders like a conqueror. Her appearance amused Corvo: full of thrill, he drew her closer and kissed her forehead.

"Corvo! Your beard's itchy!"

"Then I'll shave it tonight."

"No. Have I not told you how you look handsome with it?"

"I think you already have, pretty much every day."

She laughed and kissed him.

* * *

Smiles started to renew on the Empress' lips, just like before. When Corvo got onto a boat for Karnaca, he was at peace: his absence will not be a hard ordeal for her love.

The bow was cleaving the waves, finding a way in the eternal sea. With his elbows on the gunwale, Corvo was wandering in thoughts about the past, sixteen months ago. His fingers touched the Outisider's mark pricking his phalanxes. The tattoo burned his skin; however it had helped him to fight against Delilah, also blessed by the Outsider.

The witch had come one morning, surrounded by twenty or so women covered with petals and thorns. Delilah had presented herself as the Empress' big sister, thus she was the true heir of the throne. That day had been a riot: the sorceresses had chased away the royal family and had slaughtered the loyal subjects. As for the others, the cowards had hidden away and had tried to dodge the witches' charms. The next night, Corvo had been visited by the Outsider and had obtained his gift. Then the Royal Protector had rivalled with the usurper, ready to kill her. But Jessamine had begged him to spare Delilah as another way was foreseeable: trap the artist in one of her own paintings. Corvo has not been surprised by the Empress' clemency; still he had known this impetus was covering a corrosive guilt.

And Delilah, with a last movement, had cursed Emily. The witch could have turned her into a rose bush, a cherry tree or even a lilac, but it would have meant the heir would have her roots put down in Delilah's realm. The witch had wanted to _ban_ her. Emily's legs had stuck together; blue, green and mauve scales had torn her epidermis; her ankles had broken, contorted with clicking noises; the young woman had collapsed with a painful cry.

"Dad! Help me!", she tried to shout. But the powerless and petrified protector had understood when he had looked the portrait of the freshly trapped witch: Delilah had been laughing out loud, her traits twisted, mute yet dangerous.

When he remembered it, his heart clenched and the vise only untightened when Serkonos began to appear at the horizon. As the boat came close, Corvo was watching out for a hybrid shape. But Emily was not here.

He was asleep, exhausted with the heat, when the captain awoke him: they had arrived in Karnaca. As the sun was going down, the temperature was lowering. The air was still searing and the plaster on the building looked like it had been cooking during all the day. Corvo paid and thanked the sailor, then headed toward the Aventa District.

In the coach, the wind was lashing Corvo's face, drying the first pearls of sweat off his forehead. He wanted to keep this distinguished look but he took his jacket off, then sponged down the back of his neck. He had forgotten when the twilight was over twenty five degrees.

The wagon stopped in front of a portal of wrought iron, near two guards.

"Corvo Attano, Royal Protector. I have an appointment with Kirin Jindosh.", said the visitor when he showed a letter marked by the imperial seal. The watchmen did not bother him and opened the gate. The vehicle ran at a quick pace on its rails, leading to the manor which was standing by the cliff, echoing the Shindaerey Peak. Curvy and elegant, the mansion had off-white facades absorbing the last rays of the sun, glowing with a heat. Corvo judged the place beautiful yet a bit too exuberant.

The interior confirmed this opinion: in the hall, enormous statues were overhanging guests, showing an unnecessary luxury. The decorator seemed to be fond of warm colors: the champagne wallpapers were mixed with caramel-colored woodworks, all lightened by gold lanterns. The welcoming surroundings were contrasting with heavy silence. Corvo ignored the audiograph and ventured to beyond the double door.

He jumped: a robot of a considerable size greeted him, its four swords hanging by its sides just like a mantis with its legs. The head looked like a bird's one, crafted in perfectly shine olive wood.

" _You're are very welcome, Royal Protector!_ "

The voice was coming from loudspeakers and seemed shared with the machine. The skeleton twisted, the beak changed of direction and the soldier walked toward the end of the place.

" _Follow the guide, Protector, it'll lead you where I'm waiting for you._ "

After another hallway, Corvo relished the cool lounge where he stepped on. A glass floor revealed an underground waterfall right below.

"There you are."

Sokolov had spoken about a former student though Corvo was surprised when he saw someone younger than he had expected. Jindosh might have been around thirty-five and his elegant appearance gave him a feline look. In fact, everything about Jindosh recalled cats: his gray eyes owned the same mischievous shard and the way his lips curled was the smile of a haughty household tiger. The Inventor offered Corvo his hand; in a surprising way, Corvo's strength did not make Jindosh yield for he was also energetic. He invited the guest in a plain smoking room and offered Corvo cigars and whiskey. As for him, Jindosh contented himself with a cigarette.

Corvo remembered very well Sokolov's warnings, but either the Duke had managed to muzzle this whimsical mind, or Jindosh was a very courteous monster.

"I must say I was looking forward our meeting, Royal Protector: I was greatly intrigued by our Empress' request."

"So are you interested?"

"Absolutely. Moreover, the missive's tone didn't let me any choice, I guess my interest is a bargain. First of all, there is just a little formality as you know I work for the—"

"The Duke Abele already knows you'll serve our Empress from now until your work done. You don't have to take care of him."

"That's perfect. Now, we can talk about the heir as I'm quite skeptical. What does the Empress mean by _turned into a mermaid_?"

"This isn't an expression, Jindosh, Emily Kaldwin was turned into a mermaid."

The scientist could not hide his surprise: as anyone else in the Empire, he had heard, among the society conversations, some rumors about Emily Kaldwin shut in Dunwall Tower, way more disfigured than her own mother, maybe mortally injured. Some even dared to say Jessamine's daughter was dead and her funerals were a secret.

"A mermaid? Since when?"

"Since Delilah Copperspoon's coup. We don't know the spell that was used for this vengeance, but anyway, the heir is hiding somewhere in the sea right now: she has no longer legs, instead a tail of a fish."

"Do you know exactly where she is?"

"Around Serkonos, near Cullero more precisely but well, she's certainly explored the isle a few times already."

"Dunwall's ports were too risky I guess, but why didn't you keep her? You could have built an aquarium."

The word did not please Corvo but Jindosh was right with his exactness.

"The Empress thought about it but we didn't want the heir to become a freak. It has been sixteen months and a very few people know the truth about Lady Emily: she knows how to hide and in the meanwhile, we're trying to find a solution. And you are our last trump card."

"How did you come to think about me?"

Jindosh already knew the answer but he could not deny himself the pleasure to hear it.

"Anton Sokolov told about you. He thinks you're brilliant and _daring_ enough to succeed."

The Inventor's smile was not ambiguous: the former student had exceeded his teacher once again. As the professor had failed, the apprentice had to prove his talent.

"You have to know I've never worked about something we only find in fairytales."

"Failure isn't bad, Jindosh, but be careful: Emily Kaldwin isn't a guinea pig and her death will lead to your conviction. I hope you know that."

"You must suspect that the Duke Abele was a helpful financial assistance.", remarked Jindosh, eluding the threat while he stubbed out his cigarette. "The Empress won't think I'm too greedy as I always work with the finest equipment? Well, nothing is too beautiful for her daughter, isn't it?"

"You'll have everything you need."

"Wonderful. The best is for my old professor to send me all his research, so I could save up some time and not start over. Then, I'll keep you informed about every progress."

"It sounds good."

"So this is our deal, Royal Protector."

* * *

Two weeks had been needed to modify the Clockwork Mansion's laboraty: if Jindosh was first amused by the aquarium, it had become a necessity to keep Emily. He pursued some studies with Sokolov's ones but quickly came to an end: Emily's situation was genuinely remarkable. Paltry specifications stated the tail was around the same height than the former legs. Moveover, the mermaid has not webbed hands. Jindosh would complete the account. He had tried to gather more knowledge about human anatomy and fish's one: and since the first simply sail, the second could not leave the waters. An ocean separates the two species.

Still, pride brushed off even the slightest doubt. Kirin Jindosh observed one of his Clockwork Soldiers: these machines were the pen which had written his name in history, but if he cured Emily Kaldwin, this action will be another kudos. Robots already existed when mermaids were only chimeras. Uncatchable chimeras and Jindosh was thinking about a way to find the Empress' daughter. If Corvo was right Emily was swimming near Cullero. On his side, the Royal Protector hired a few guards with sea legs and provided with the secret meaning so they could help Jindosh. Emily's safety was not essential, it was a compulsory condition.

If the heir could have heard her father, she would have snorted: Emily saw herself as clever enough to avoid dangers, fleeing from gazes. Many sailors had glimpsed her swift body, of course, but they were so superstitious they thought it was a supernatural creature or a hallucination provoked by the last drink. They never have imagined it has been Emily Kaldwin as a mermaid.

The guards chosen by Corvo had started to make inquiries in some bars but a few sailors were willing to speak, only quote the hearsays. If bone charms were banned by the Abbey, surely the fantasy about a fish-woman would be a heresy too.

* * *

"Esteban! The fat whale! The fat whale!"

"What again?"

"I kept an apricot tartlet for later and it pinched it! My tartlet!"

"Whale don't eat tartlets, it gives them runs, you didn't know?"

Pablo belied and wailed louder and louder while Esteban did not listen anymore. Their boat was slowly going back to the port but the sailor's bawling did not soothe.

"What a thief! Can't believe it! Can't believe a whale can pinch that much!"

His outraged complaints caught a guard's attention.

"What's going here? You better be a victim to have the right to bellow so much in the evening!"

"A victim! Yes! Yes I am! A victim of a thief!"

"A robbery, then? Where? When?"

"You can't do much about it: it was on sea and you weren't there. A whale pinched me all the time!"

The guard looked at the quiet one, or rather the tired one, for an explanation.

"Pablo thinks a whale stole his things."

"Why a whale? Aren't you the one who confiscates his goods?"

"Excuse you?!"

"It's a whale, sir: it steals my foods among other things and is off with it. I know it swims and every time it pinched a thing, I hear a huge _splash_! It must be a fat thing, not just a bass or an eel."

The guard was not someone virtuous and his patience was quickly lost. The exchange ended with some hits to scare the madman and his partner. "And stay low or I'll come and I'll kill your fucking whale!", warned the guard, so the legend of Pablo's whale was created. This joke jumped from a street to another, amusing groups of friends: the picture of a whale with shoes at its fins and an apricot tartlet between its teeth was truly comical. Still these surrealist fables collided with some protests: Pablo and Esteban were not the only ones robbed as many disappearances were disturbing boats' inventories. These conversations came to in the ears of the guards engaged by Corvo. The four of them looked at each other: some objects had simply fallen, for sure, but it was a lot of food and it was certainly a hint about the area we needed to focus on.

After they had informed Jindosh about it, they welcomed the Grand Inventor's exceptional presence on their boat. Yet they looked unfavorably on the machine which was following Jindosh like a steel guard dog. A dog with the head of a bird.

"Don't mind my creation: it's nothing but a worker for now."

To the machine's shoulders were fixed two hooks which were supporting a cylinder of glass, large enough to contain an adult man. Soon it will be filled with water and when Emily will be spotted, the mermaid will be placed in the cage.

Jindosh had adjusted the machine so it will detect a hybrid body between the woman and the fish, still, without specimen for a test, the function was not really reliable. The guards told the Inventor what they had heard: as a creature pilfered food on the decks, so they had placed a basket full of fruits near the edge. They hoped the mermaid was the true culprit and the lure will work on her.

"A good initiative", conceded Jindosh.

And the tactic was proven as effective at dusk.

* * *

Emily has not seen her favorite fish men since a while: their last argument had made her laugh to tears but now, she felt a bit ashamed. What if they had changed their place? What if their quarrel had incurred the wrath of a touchy guard? She promised herself to leave them alone for a long time. After all, other boats were pretty careless and she had always managed to eat until now.

A new boat had dropped anchor. Despite its size, she saw nobody on the deck. When the sun had finished its fall, when the wood of the hull had turned black, Emily grabbed one of the ropes and climbed. Before her eyes there was a basket full of fruits, she just had to stretch her arm, her fingers and she could reach the edge to make it tip over. The creature put her weight on the rope, spanned her arm and

" _This playback indicates the machine has detected a hybrid creature._ "

Emily jumped and saw a tall skeleton made of metal running toward her. She dropped the cord and let herself fall in the sea, blinded by fear. She swam under the hull, her favorite shelter, and tried to distinguish the noises above but the waves hitting on the wood made the only sound around. A brief moment and she took to decision to swim to the surface, slowly, so she could take a breath and flee away.

Her nose was out when a net flattened on her, whipping her face. She did instinctively struggle with all her strength, just like a fly in a spider web. Her body left the waters, lifted by the trap. A freezing shiver wrapped her: her teeth began to chatter, but she was not sure if it was of fear or for the cold. Her fingers tried to remove the black hair on her face while she was unable to see the tube.

"We caught her! We caught her!"

The creature felt she was trapped in the cylinder. Emily raised her head to take a breath but there was no surface: a lid blocked this prison full of water and she will soon need some air.

The Clockwork was lighting the scene with its beacons, revealing an outstanding sight. The men were facing a mermaid, a _true_ mermaid. The tail was waving, striking the glass while her hands tried to push the lid. Jindosh was fascinated: the link between the human part and the fish part was perfect. Some scales were above the waist, separated from the matching ones, but below, there were plentiful, shining like coins, stopping at the border of a big transparent fin.

But the mermaid was too turbulent. The beacons lighted her throat and her jaw. Jindosh noticed something then: Emily had no gills. She could not breathe under the water.

"Remove the lid!"

The guards were looking at the Inventor, stunned. In a meanwhile, Emily felt like her heart was ready to explode. As he lost his patience, Jindosh ordered the soldier to pierce the up of the cylinder: a crack freed some water and the captive could breathe again.

This mermaid had no webbed hands nor gills: Emily was more an amphibian creature than an aquatic one.

"She needs air: if she's totally submerged, she'll die."

With the glass fissured, the cylinder could break any time: it was better to hurry to the port.

Emily was observing the men: four of them were wearing the guard uniform when the last one, if his clothes were of high quality, did not look like a noble. Maybe just a bit pretentious and eccentric. She knew no one and was wondering why she has been catpured: to help her? Study her? Punish her? Her arms wrapped around her bare breast and she curled up, waiting.

The machine lifted the cage and the mermaid was hitched to its back.

"All my apologies, Lady Kaldwin, for this approach but your mother, our Empress, had asked me to retrieve you. I'm Kirin Jindosh."

The heir was sceptic. Very sceptic. She did not who was this Jindosh and how he was in contact with her mother, but as she watched the machine following the man, she came to the conclusion that Jindosh was its creator. The Inventor assured to the guards they will not be needed from now, back to the port, when he put all his trust in his soldier.

"You will excuse this measure, Lady Kaldwin", and before Emily could understand, a cover was thrown on the cylinder.

She was rocked by the machine's gait. An incomplete fish on the back of a bird made of metal : the picture was peculiar enough. Under the sound of the gearwheels, she could hear people speaking away, cats yowling, birds flying away. Even if her feet, or what was left of them, could not touch the cobblestones, she somehow felt wholy human again. Suddenly the machine stopped. Still the mermaid sensed movements: a coach took over. The blanket was taken off and Jindosh put a piece of cloth in the crack to prevent the water to flow.

Despite the night, Emily devoured the landscape: the light did not tower over her, it was her governing it. The buildings were tiny cubes and not slumped giants on the beach anymore. She has totally forgotten this view and avidly watched it despite the wagon's speed. Sparks sprang in the shadow of the car and she guessed Jindosh just light up a cigarette: she did not share this friendly gesture for so long she wanted to stretch her hand and swallow some puffs. But she has to wait before she could smoke again.

The coach arrived at the destination and Emily admired the mansion. Banned for so many months, she was almost amazed when she saw doors, windows, paintings and carpets. But the most incredible were the machines: there were others in the manor. These robots, these moving rooms. It seemed Jindosh was an uncommon inventor.

"I'll take you to my laboratory; you won't stay in this cage any longer. The mansion is already perfectly protected, my laboratory is better: you don't need to hide anymore."

Since she was in the cylinder, Emily had kept her arms around her chest: a very feminine prudishness, noticed Jindosh, proving the young woman was still human is her manners and did not go over the animal side.

In the observatory, converted into a laboratory, a pool occupied a lot of space, taking two levels. Filters and other mechanical accessories made it look like a scientist bathtub. The bird poured the tube and Emily was thrown in her new bath, still shocked. She quickly came to the surface and enjoyed the air less confined than in her prison.

Jindosh brought a seat closer. The morning would come in a few hours but apparently, sleep was not his priority.

"At last! No glass, no lid, we can talk. Can you talk, Lady Kalwin?"

"Yes.", Emily closed her mouth immediately. She sounded so grave. So hollow. Her voice slept in the deep of her throat for many weeks, it was reluctant to wake up.

"Apparently, the waters of Dunwall were too cold. Does this one suit you?"

She nodded. Emily rubbed her trachea and heated her vocal cords.

"I have lost the habit of talking."

Jindosh gave her a glass of water she sipped slowly.

"I don't sleep floating on water."

"Excuse me?"

"Outside, when I was tired, I could find an isolated beach and I could sleep on it. I can't breathe under water. Here, I've no support."

Indeed Jindosh did not think about this detail, convinced Emily was like any other fish and could sleep underwater. He placed a table against the aquarium's rim.

"It's better than nothing.", observed Emily. "Even if the wood will be too hard."

"I'll find something, Lady Kaldwin."

The scientist never had a royal subject on his table, and tail of fish or not, Emily Kaldwin was the heir of the throne, so he preferred to apply the good manners. The future Empress will remember his devotion. He explained the situation: the empress' letter, Corvo's visit and Sokolov's researches.

"Did you made them?", asked the young woman, pointing on a Clockwork soldier.

"From the blueprint to the manufacture. The smallest cog was made in this place. As I'm not a wizard, I can't cancel the spell, but I can build legs."

"I don't want legs like these!"

"Of course not: it'll look like human legs. Judging by your coloring, I would opt for cherry tree wood or apple tree wood. The joints will be made of steel, I'll explain you how to take care of it."

"And you'll operate on me? Just like that?"

"You didn't become a mermaid like from the fairytales: your legs were replaced by the tail of a fish. It's a dull anatomy problem."

"A _dull_ problem?!", Emily hit the surface with her tail, provoking a violent sound, just to remind Jindosh the 'dull problem'.

"You didn't understand, Lady Kaldwin. You're quite touchy. Let me explain: if you would have gills, webbed hands and other traits, the modifications would have been more delicate. But as I can see, the problem is limited to your legs and the task will be easier."

"When do you plan to remove my— what had been transformed?"

"I need more data first, you'll get used to this idea. For now, I let you rest awhile. I'll write to your mother, do you need anything?"

"Some clothes. My shirt has worn out and I didn't really need it, but now—"

Jindosh sacrificed two pillows and a blanket, leaving it on the table. Emily thought she could felt an ancient joy, the one when one can sleep on cotton, but the sand soaked the water better. She observed Jindosh across the office, on the other side of the circular balcony. The letter was written for a long time and he has pursued with other tasks, maybe notes about her.

Even if she had accepted her situation, she was not against some help from someone who was able to remove this bloody tail. Emily wished she could run again, wished she could scamper on the ramparts and follow her father. Corvo has given her the taste for getaways and sword combat. She missed all these exercises.

Maybe the legs this Inventor would create will not suit her. She will leave a hybrid body for a mechanical one. Tiredness made her pessimist: she did not want to come back to the imperial court with cherry tree wood or whatever wood. She did not want to become Emily the First, the Mechanical. Without noticing, the light from the desk became a mist of honey sticking between her eyelashes. While she was imagining these futures, the young woman fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

I took some liberties with the universe, using Victorian details. Dishonored is a subtle mix between steampunk and dieselpunk and since the story is around 1850's, I put some of our 1850's but with moderation. I hope it won't overrun the universe and you'll still recognize it. It's mostly about dialogues, psychology, etc.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

The tips of his fingers started to wrinkle. Jindosh had reckoned the time he spent in water before the reaction. He remembered when he was a child and in his bath, fascinated, asking to his mother why his fingers looked like this. She has not been able to answer him. She has never been able to answer him.

In the long term, water became an enemy, eating epidermis, chilling bones. A human body could not withstand with the salty and wet embraces of sea. Quite observer, the scientist had noticed Emily's undamaged skin. Salt stars had formed on her shoulders, her hair was a mess and she was carrying an iodic smell. Otherwise, her skin was undamaged. Emily had not spent all her time in the waters: she has certainly taken refuge on dry land. The life of a wandering fish, far away from the comfortable rooms in Dunwall. At this thought, Jindosh burst into laughter, his voice echoed on the tiles of the bathroom. The heiress of the throne had a fish tail and she was right now in his manor as a subject. No one else could live through!

The back of his neck was against the edge of the bathtub, Jindosh glanced toward the door of his laboratory. He had not seen his 'patient' since she had fell asleep. Right before her sleep, Emily was sheepish and lost, he hoped she would be more responsive once awake. Mermaid could be a fascinating subject; still, if this one had the cleverness of a mollusk, the scientist would lose his interest.

Jindosh stood up and rinsed the soap. As the water slid down to the bathtub drain, a ringing sound came from his room. A ringing sound that the inventor knew and even appreciated a lot, but today he did not want to pay attention.

"Eight o'clock." He observed, checking the watch next to the tap. "Burglars get up later and later."

The clockwork soldiers would take care of the intruder without difficulty, Jindosh was certain of it when he took a first shirt, near a second he planned to bring to Emily. Like every morning, he meticulously cared for his appearance, brushing his hair and mustache, adjusting every piece of clothing. Empress in his house or not, it was a routine, a ritual he performed. His hands often touched wood and metal plates, and yet no residue was forgotten under his fingernails. Likewise, none of his shirts could attest to the blood that sometimes flowed into the laboratory's anatomy section.

Emily was totally unaware of what could happen under the aquarium in which she was bathing. She saw only the two upper floors of the laboratory, observing Sokolov's self-portrait, the many books and forgotten papers on the floor. From the edge of the aquarium, the new rooster of this strange bird of the waves, Emily could not quench all her curiosity: she had understood that Jindosh was an eccentric character, but she wasn't aware of Sokolov's warnings.

The mermaid slid down to the floor, leaning on what were once her knees, advancing to the railing before leaning on it. Beneath it was a real rose window of glass, wood, and gears, where the projects intermingled as if to blur the deductions of the simple-minded. Instruments occupied the surfaces of the furniture; the notes on the floor had multiplied like mushrooms after the rain. Emily would have liked to come down from the balcony and go through what she could see only from afar. As a little girl, she had never seen Sokolov's workplace, but she had imagined it that way.

A soldier was on patrol: its knees were moving up and down with a regular, quiet cadence. The gears murmured a soft hymn murmur, singing for the mechanical life. The more the creature observed these metal limbs, the less she wanted to have a pair of artificial legs.

The elevator announced the arrival of the owner, but the siren did not try to return to its basin.

"Good morning, Lady Kaldwin." Jindosh became suddenly speechless when he saw her. "You— It looks like you're standing on your knees?"

The fish tail actually formed a strangely right angle, as if the young woman had knelt.

"Good morning, Jindosh. Is it for me?" Emily pointed to the shirt and the inventor nodded.

The siren pulled the garment, a little too wide for her shoulders, but she was much more comfortable.

"Your position intrigues me a lot and I would like to check your joints. If I may?"

Jindosh sat down beside her. He had not yet touched this strange chimera and was almost afraid of breaking the illusion by putting his hands on it. The scales were wet, smooth. Under the touch, he guessed that they covered a firm muscle and bones rather than fishbones and stringy flesh. When his fingers slipped toward the fin, he felt like he was touching a stump: the bones were present, he was almost certain, but they were like knotted, agglomerated between them. Emily suppressed a thrill remembering the sound that her ankles had produced during her metamorphosis.

"Have you ever tried to stand up?"

"No. And I don't think my fin will support my weight."

"Let's give it a try."

He grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up. The fish tail completely left the ground and the mermaid was suspended. Emily and Jindosh were of a similar size, and for a few moments she found a semblance of humanity.

"Stand at the railing if you need."

Emily followed the advice and her forearms trembled on the ramp, more with emotion than with effort. The many hours of swimming had drawn beautiful and strong shoulders. She was tired of measuring just one meter: since her metamorphosis, she had the impression of being a little girl again who had to climb everywhere. But for now, she found all her height.

As soon as the tip of her tail touched the ground, the siren knew she would not be able to stand up.

"I can't do it. Something is wrong, as if— as if my feet were broken and I could not stand on it."

The scales covered the skin, but Jindosh guessed the curves from the past: the dimples of the lower back, the hollows of the abdomen, the silhouette of the hips. Everything was there: everything still existed but trapped in a sheath of scales. The scientist was convinced that if he cut this tail lengthwise, he would open a coffin of flesh where human relics would be preserved. Unfortunately he could not sacrifice this subject just for the joy of confirming his theory.

On the floor below, Jindosh had set up a table covered with a white sheet in front of a silvergraph: his creation, which immortalized the images, would allow him to fix Emily's body on silver paper just like a collector could pin a butterfly in a frame. He took his subject to the support and asked her first to flatten her hands under the lens.

"But my hands are perfectly normal."

"And that's why I want to mention it. Don't move, it takes about ten minutes for the machine to capture the image and I don't want to spoil my equipment."

Emily struggled to hold back a sigh, though she did not hesitate to roll her eyes. While the silvergraph was doing the memorization, Jindosh wrote some notes. The mermaid was trying to follow the mechanic soldier's round, which, true to his status as an automaton, continued to advance.

"Do you ever eat, Jindosh?" Emily asked as soon as the machine left her field of vision.

"Of course I do."

"I wondered if you were also an automaton. I guess you don't really have time to take care of the stoves. What will your cook say when he sees that he has to serve eel jelly to a fish woman?" The tone was sweetly mocking: if Emily was going to remind her royal rank even in this mansion far from Dunwall, she had ceased to be a little nuisance a long time ago.

"There is no cook. I have no staff since I managed to assign various tasks to my machines. And those in the kitchen never start before nine o'clock."

"A dish cooked by an automaton, what a chance to try this."

"You can count yourself lucky, Lady Kaldwin, that my creations will never talk about your case outside while an employee would certainly lead us into endless blackmail. Ah, the take is over. Lie on your back."

Emily obeyed and Jindosh pulled back the silvergraph to have a wider frame.

"I need to be able to see your size, remove your shirt a bit. Perfect. It's quite curious, these scales scattered on your stomach."

"Maybe that witch wanted to turn me into salmon and didn't have the time."

But Jindosh did not answer: Emily heard he murmured thoughts to himself. Hands crossed under her breast, she waited for the end of this interminable monologue before losing patience and cutting it:

"Since you have no staff, do you live alone?"

"Lady Kaldwin, it's a wrong time for mundane conversations, and the pictures will be blurry if you move your jaw."

"I just want to know, especially since I'm going to stay here for a while. And my face doesn't matter much on your silvergraphs, Jindosh."

"Lay on the side."

Once more, the creature complied but she leaned on one elbow and stared at him, determined to know more about her host, determined to know the man who would _operate_ her. If she could trust him, even a bit, Emily would be able to apprehend this ordeal with more serenity.

"I live alone, although I often receive guests, but rest assured: they are never allowed to pass the reception rooms. What's private remains private."

"So I have the honor to be in your laboratory your guests have never had the chance to observe?"

"You play badly comedy for a noble. And I didn't know that sarcasm was fashionable at the Dunwall court."

"It's fashionable in the seas of Serkonos. But I assure you that I'm truly honored."

"Don't be too flattered, Lady Kaldwin: your case is rather exceptional, I have never received a woman fish or lizard man or whatever."

"The fact that I'm a mermaid impresses you more than my title of heir to the throne, obviously."

The take was over; now she had to stand on her stomach. The poses were less tiring than those of the painting sessions. The future empress was not particularly narcissistic, she was less coy then her mother and instead shared the casual side of her father, contenting herself with the minimum. She remembered those days when artists came to immortalize her portrait: her chambermaids tied her hair in all directions, spread makeup on her lips and her eyelids and the woman had the sensation of suffocating. Today, after spending sixteen months almost in the wild state, she would have liked her servants to pamper her a little.

"Did you spend all your time in the water?" The siren jumped when the question drew her from her thoughts.

"No. It would be like walking without stopping. When I wanted to rest, I found hidden places like coves or caves. It's lucky that Serkonos is a mountainous island."

"Have you ever had animal instinct? No memory loss?"

"I often dreamed about a feast of plankton." Jindosh looked at her surprised but she quickly went on with a straightforward smile. "I'm joking. No, I remained perfectly human with my memories, my tastes and— my emotions."

There had been starless nights where Emily covered her face with her hands and crying a lot, hitting her fishtail against the walls of a cave to hurt that cursed part of her body. The idea of suicide had never touched her, but the urge to cut that tail with a penknife had haunted her for weeks.

"I am and remain Emily Kaldwin."

Jindosh started to answer when a sound rang out from the office. Emily had heard this ring before, before the inventor arrived, but she did not understand what it was meaning.

"Is it nine o'clock?"

"No. This ring doesn't announce the action of the machines in the kitchen." It announced the advance of _other_ machines. The ones which put to death and conclude a fight. The intruder had joined the list of the braves dead in this mansion.

"Excuse me for a moment, Lady Kaldwin."

"Do I have to wait for you here?" Jindosh eluded the question and left her in the laboratory. Emily stared at the silvergraph: the take was finished. Even the metal guard dog ignored her, still continuing its automatic walk. This entire manor already followed a precise rhythm and there was no place for a new gear.

* * *

A huge stain of blood had bloomed in the middle of the room, overflowing on a luxurious carpet ready to be thrown. Above the corpse, a Clockwork Soldier was waiting. One of its four blades had become garnet: the shine of the metal was drowned by the syrupy liquid. The thief had tried to sneak between the legs of the mechanical bird and one of the cutting wings had sliced him in half.

A strange machine had already begun to work close to the body: possessing six legs, the belly of this steel ant sheltered brushes and towels connected to different bottles of products. It was not a worker ant, rather a housekeeper ant capable of detecting blood and washing as well as a maid.

The soldier did not react and was still waiting: the program to move the intruder once eliminated was not yet fully developed. Jindosh sighed and clapped his hands.

"Soldier, get rid of the body."

The automaton leaned forward and the blades retrieved the divided parts, freeing room for its fellow to perform its duty. A piece of intestine slipped from the chest with a wet sound, drawing the inventor's attention. Jindosh stopped the machine.

"Soldier, bring the body to the laboratory, anatomy section." His imagination was inspired by those legs separated from the rest of the body. An idea was born: the body was dead but Jindosh could try to reunite the two parts, to gather them together. If he succeeds, he might be able to start the experiment again on a living, female subject while keeping his guinea pig alive. And if success was repeated, Jindosh would know how to replace Emily's fishtail with _real_ legs. An operation much more risky than mechanical prostheses. But the brilliant mind had never resisted complex challenges.

* * *

The mermaid was sitting at the edge of the table. The minutes passed as she inspected the surroundings: the workshop was a mix of luxury and practice. Olive wood blocks filled the air and the woodwork had left here and there a thin veil of dust, trying to compete with the cleanliness that reigned in the room.

"You spend all your time working here. Don't you ever eat?" Emily asked to the automaton. Then the elevator announced the return of the inventor who apologized to her, accompanied by a wheelchair:

"You must be starving, Lady Kaldwin, we will postpone the rest of the study for later. Come."

The lower laboratory had several wheelchairs to transport the bodies: for once, one of them would serve a living. Jindosh lifted the creature off the table and put it in the chair.

"A convenient way of transportation." Emily observed, relieved not to be carried away like a bundle anymore.

"It's still quite limited."

"You mean stairs?"

"That and the mechanisms of the house. I doubt you could understand anything."

Emily was astound, but she held her tongue. Accustomed to exploring everything from the deepest cellars to the highest roofs, the Dunwall Tower had no secrets for the heiress. If she did not intend to violate the intimacy of the Grand Inventor, he had just challenged her unintentionally. Some habits were stubborn and Emily was eager to repeat her escapades to contradict her host.

Emily could see the manor by day: under the rays of the sun of Karnaca, the sensation of heat was confirmed. With the wheelchair, they were forced to take a longer path and the guest discovered a new part of the Clockwork Mansion, like the strange carousel in Jindosh's private apartments. Emily understood better why the inventor had belittled her about the understanding of the functioning of the manor, which said, she did not doubt that she would learn very quickly to handle these levers.

As they descended, the young woman felt a fresh draft of damp air. In addition to hearing the sound of a waterfall very close. She wondered what kind of house Jindosh lived in.

"You are very quiet. My home leaves you speechless?"

"Hunger leaves me speechless."

She was not a mermaid that bit so easily to fish for compliments.

"My Clockwork Soldiers are more impressive, I grant you. Don't deny, I saw your amazement yesterday and I will add that you had really lost your voice."

"And I saw yours amazement when you noticed my fish tail."

Jindosh bit the inside of his cheek while refusing to admit defeat by Emily's repartee.

"Your problem is losing its appeal in fact: I truly think your legs are still there, altered but present."

"Great news in this case, I had planned a marathon after lunch time."

"Be patient, Lady Kaldwin, soon you can run as before. Your situation has a new attraction for me—"

The siren had not heard this last sentence barely whispered. The waterfall covered the sounds and brought a breath of fresh air into this mountain hollow. The rays of the water were reflected on the walls carved into the stone and Emily was struck by this contrast of temperature and light. Here, in the bowels of the stone, everything was in green and anthracite tones.

Jindosh pushed the wheelchair into the middle of the kitchen. An iron cube was heating, probably replacing a traditional oven, except that above a line of watches indicated the temperature, time and other measures that Emily did not manage to guess. Further, a large jar contained boiling water ready to be mixed with tea or coffee. The siren also noted the presence of a scarab-shaped creation that had on its shell a hot plate, serving as a stove. The machines were busy, warming, stirring uninterrupted like stoical servants, imperturbable even in front of the master of the house.

Emily moved her seat and looked at the dishes that were getting ready: ones were sweet and others were salty.

"Take whatever you want" Jindosh offered, pouring a cup of coffee for himself.

"I let you choose first, you're the host after all."

"I'll settle for my coffee."

And the man turned away.

"You won't stay?"

"I've an experience that can't wait. But for your safety, stay in this part for I've no desire to write to the Empress to explain that her daughter has been reduced to dust by an arc pylon."

Or that the heiress was crushed between two walls or was shot at by an aggressive soldier. Emily did not want it neither. She grabbed a cup of black tea and watched Jindosh comes back to the elevator. He would not share the secret: his experience would remain a mystery for the moment. A strange, bitter feeling took hold of her. Annoyed, Emily thought herself as a patient, someone to help, but the Inventor certainly considered her a mere laboratory sample, a subject of experience.

She swallowed the brew while looking at the machines. They also did not notice her. The young woman took a grape and sent it to the top of the jar. The fruit bounced and disappeared behind an interior window. The lady sighed: the staff at Dunwall Tower was so serious that it was boring, but at least they reacted when she joked.

A discreet splash sounded. Intrigued, the mermaid rolled her chair out of the kitchen, arriving on an interior balcony. Just below, an underground waterfall ran into a natural pond. The noise was amplified and droplets danced frenziedly like insects on a summer day. Emily nibbled the grapes and approached the edge, a smile on her lips.

The water was very tempting.

* * *

"You are much more beautiful like that."

The hand of the witch finished to equalize the black locks on a delicate brown neck. The color was so hot that she could not resist to kiss it. Billie Lurk jumped, surprised, and ran her fingers through her hair: they were as fluid as the breeze now.

"Now, I can tell you: I hated that bob cut that you had, it hardened your face."

"My face _is_ hard, Claudia."

Billie looked up at the woman. Towards this truly beautiful woman.

She was not fooled: Claudia's compliments were only small daily gifts, bouquets of words placed in the hollow of her ear. But when Billie told Claudia how beautiful she was, it was a genuine truth. Her hair was spun fire, marrying different shades of ginger. And from her jaw to her hips, Claudia's body was a white sky where constellations had frozen in hot spots. All Billie liked.

Black eyes scanned her throat, the knotted bun, in search of what she used to devour. But Claudia had changed. Claudia had become a witch, venerating Delilah Copperspoon and obeying Breanna Ashworth. This idolatry had brought to her complexion a strange brilliancy reminiscent of the light of the swamps. The freckles had become dull, drowned in this glaucous green. As for her hair, the fire had lost its heat.

"Would you fancy hair like Delilah?"

Billie stood up, her silence insinuating that she refused to imitate Delilah. She did not share the same fascination with the thorn witch as her beloved. From now on, she even felt a certain jealousy. Since Clara and Billie had joined the witches of Karnaca, the redhead was styled in the same way as Breanna and far from being mocked; she was even adulated for this imitation.

With her forehead against the window, Billie watched the night fall on the city: the sky was glowing and adorned with some heavenly diamonds, while the channel underneath was ugly, losing its reflections and drowning in the shadows. Billie would have liked to jump in and swim to the sea. She had always dreamed of boats, trips, bathing: she wanted to be captain of the oceans, captain of her life.

But she was mistress of nothing.

She was in this flowered apartment in Cyria Gardens, in this miniature forest where the stalks tangled like amorous bodies. She was with Claudia, obsessed with Delilah and her powers, and Billie was forced to approve this toxic passion. She wondered what life would have been like if this talented assassin had not died in front of her. A little urchin in the shadows, she had seen this powerful man fight almost supernaturally. And yet a guard had managed to do the unimaginable: his bullet had pierced the assassin's skull, spreading his brains on the cobblestones of the street.

Billie was haunted by this memory. She had seen several people lose their lives, her late Deirdre for example, but this assassin's fall tormented her. This death gave her the sensation of an opportunity forever missed. But why? What would her life have looked like if he had survived and if she had gone to talk to him? Would the face of the world have been changed? She would never know it.

"I can't wait for tomorrow, when Breanna sends our sisters to Dunwall to release Delilah."

Our _sisters_? Billie clenched her fists: though she was an orphan, she refused to have these women devouring men for sisters.

"I wonder how the Royal Protector will be changed? In a little pig? No! Better: a big rat! And his wife— let's see— A sardine? No, she could join her girl monster."

Claudia finished stapling her stockings to her garter belt. They had spent the day in bed, breathing the scent of flowers above their heads, watching the sun dance with the shadows of the apartment, loving each other on the cotton sheets. Billie was no longer sure of the term, no longer sure of the love they shared. Five years ago, Claudia and Billie had shared the sweetest caresses, the hottest kisses, the most intimate conversations. But Claudia's generous heart had fallen back since several months: it could not accommodate Billie, Breanna and Delilah at the same time. One of the three should soon make room and Billie knew she would be sacrificed.

"I would have loved to be here!"

"Where?"

"In Dunwall, when the heiress has been transformed!"

Billie sighed. Emily Kaldwin's transformation was a subject that often came back to Claudia's mouth.

"If you want to see mermaids, there's plenty at the monster fair in the old quarter. We can go tomorrow if you want."

"Those are fake, Billie." The witch chuckled.

"Okay, these are fish grafted to poorly painted dolls. But the effect is striking, I assure you."

"It's not about seeing a mermaid, Billie. It's about seeing the heiress turned into a siren! Humiliation and beauty united. This is typical of Delilah. She destroys something to make it even more beautiful."

Billie did not share this view: the witch had rather disfigured the woman she loved.

Claudia wanted to integrate Breanna's plans. She was only a young witch who had yet to prove herself, curbed by Billie who was more timorous. Her feelings for Billie were sincere and if they became sisters, the novice would be fulfilled. Yet Billie was hermetic to charms and spells, brushing against this world with timidity. Or with suspicion. The two women had already quarreled over this and Billie avoided being as frank as usual, no longer able to be the target of Claudia's anger.

"I will ask to participate in the release of Delilah in Dunwall."

"What? Breanna will never accept."

"She noticed how motivated I was. She knows I'll do anything for Delilah."

"And become her favorite?" Billie had heard these murmurs in the trees of the Royal Conservatory. The witches claimed Delilah's favors as opium addicts in search of the dragon to chase. Perched on the winding branches, they shared rumors and sought to eliminate those they considered unworthy of being loved. With their belly against the bark, they laughed and whispered, mocking the name of Billie Lurk, the one that would be abandoned by Claudia.

"We could be her favorites. Both. Come with me, Billie. Show Breanna that you're ready to join her. That you're ready to accept Delilah as our legitimate empress."

Billie raised the window to let in a cool breeze. She no longer bore the scent of blistering petals, glistening pistils, and sharp spines. Her mouth swallowed the sea air, the one she preferred. Her tongue could almost smell the salt. Nevertheless, Billie was stuck in this botanical apartment and this thought made her sad.

She would not be captain of the oceans, nor captain of her life.

Claudia had risen and approached in silence. Her nails brushed Billie's skin, drawing arabesques from her ear to her shoulder.

"You aren't so modest, usually. I trust you, Billie. You're worthy of being a grandiose witch. We'll be formidable, beautiful and strong. No one'll hurt us. We'll be like those roses that embrace. We'll be like those trees that resist the centuries."

Like creepers, Claudia's arms wrapped around her waist. Billie felt her chest against her back, her breath in the crook of her neck. Claudia was able to charm her, witch or not, she was able to seduce her with a few words, some contacts.

"Okay. If Breanna accepts, I'll come with you to Dunwall."

In her burst of joy, Claudia grabbed her face and kissed her. Their lips were like the mouths of two carnivorous plants.

* * *

With a dead organism, the experiment could not be a real success. However, Jindosh had identified enough essential points to have a solid knowledge base. The subject being male, he should start his study with a woman to master the case of Emily. He noted in a corner of mind that he should consult the funeral headings of the newspapers, perhaps even inquire at the asylum led by Amos Finch which was north of Karnaca.

The anatomy part had been cleaned and the remains of the body thrown out, releasing Jindosh and reminding him that his stomach was protesting, starving. It must have been around noon: time had passed and the inventor hoped that the siren had not ventured to dangerous places. His project was going so well, a tragic and hasty ending would be frustrating.

Unfortunately the kitchen was empty. The machines worked, indifferent to Jindosh's concern. The wheelchair was no longer in the room: she was gone. He ventured to the balcony and saw at least the armchair near the railing, but no sign of the creature.

"Lady Kaldwin?"

Jindosh leaned over the rail and the mermaid was there. Emily was swimming under the waterfall.

When the mermaid entered the fresh water, she had spent long minutes floating on her back, watching the glass ceiling. These multiple superimposed skies had made her dizzy. Letting herself sink to the bottom, her body had grazed the drowned stones, looking for imaginary treasures but no chest had landed in this lake. Then she went to have fun under the waterfall: the water was cool and soft, slipping on her skin and swallowing the salt that was embedded in it, ridding her hair of sand, plating it on her face, blinding her.

Jindosh stepped over the fence, following the same path as the siren. The stones were steep in some places, but a natural staircase had formed, forming uneven and closely spaced steps.

"I told you to stay in the kitchen." Jindosh observed, sitting on a rough step near the shirt that Emily had carefully folded before entering the water.

"I'm still alive. It's not a dangerous place."

They had to raise their voices to cover the sound of the eddies. Emily pulled away from the waterfall and, taking advantage of her wet smooth hair, twisted it into a bun, then the chimera approached the rim, leaning on the rock.

"I don't know if it's because I'm a woman or a noble, but you seem to think that I'm a young lady in distress, isn't it?'

"More as a spoiled. But the two figures can get close."

"Few nobles and women would have survived in my situation, Jindosh. I spent sixteen months surviving in the sea, yet I managed to eat and escape all dangers. And by dangers, I mean the men, their harpoons, their nets, and the marine predators. If I were really the one you imagine, I would have been crunched by a shark since a long time."

"Have you escaped a shark?"

"Six times. They were more attracted to the fish side than the human side." She managed to snatch a smile from Jindosh.

"Sharks don't digest humans." The scholar said. "Most of the time, they spit out the limb they swallowed. But you would have had little chance to see your 'legs' again."

"And there was another danger—" Emily hesitated to continue. She was not sure she could trust Jindosh: she would find no friendly shoulder with him, no protection. Certainly he would defend his unique sample as long as there was material to study, but it would not be out of compassion. He would not pity or support her. "I'm not sure, but from hearing conversations, rumors, I think witches are still lurking. Maybe to my research."

"Witches serving Delilah?"

"Yes. Delilah was not alone when she came to Dunwall Tower. Many have been imprisoned but I doubt they were only twenty. They are certainly more."

"I don't see why they would be after you, Lady Kaldwin. Delilah wanted to ban you, and she did it. When you return home, you'll most likely become a target of choice. But for now, you're nothing."

And when she becomes the heiress again, when she finds her world, Emily will have to be ready. The young woman refused to let her father be the only one to face the usurper's followers: Emily, as future empress, would defend her family, her name and her inheritance.

"And don't you worry about here, I remind you that my manor is well guarded. You have only seen my soldiers on patrol, but you should see them in battle."

"They are formidable?"

"The word is weak." Replied Jindosh, taking a cigarette out of his jacket.

"I have a little service to ask you, Jindosh."

"I'm listening."

With a small shy gesture, she pointed to the cigarette.

"I haven't smoked for months. Would you agree to give me one?"

Jindosh snatched another and handed it to the naiad. She stuck the cigarette between her fingers, grilled the end with a lighter and set fire to the tobacco with a deep breath. The smoke curled in the back of her throat before escaping in volutes through her parted lips. It was a happiness she savored.

"Thank you."

"Pleasure."

With her hair wrapped around her neck, Jindosh saw her in a more human look. More civilized.

One hand holding her chin, the other holding her cigarette, Emily was watching the glass floor above their heads. Jindosh had his back against the smooth stone and watched the fish tail danced under the water. Emily's movements were perfectly human: she was not waving; she was bending and relaxing her legs.

"Are you going to tell me about this experience that couldn't wait?"

Narcissist, the scientist would have liked to fully explain his project, but he dreaded that Emily raises ethical barriers and refuses to cooperate. Although he did not need to explain the origin of the idea and how he practiced it. After another puff, he confessed his intention:

"I drew this night the first sketches for your mechanical legs. I remain convinced that the apple tree will be perfect, but an alternative has presented itself."

"An alternative to apple tree? I assure you that the wood leaves me indifferent. It doesn't matter whether it fits with my skin or not."

"No, no, not an alternative to wood. An alternative to mechanical legs."

Emily stared at him, gaping.

"What do you mean?"

"A leg transplant."

"The idea is—"

 _Senseless_. She stared at him and waves of questions swept through her mind.

"But I— whose legs, first of all? And you aren't a surgeon, you're an inventor, a mechanic. Machines and a human body, it's not the same thing!"

"You make a mistake: the body is a machine. Absolutely complex, yes, but a machine anyway. Some people give their bodies to science. With or without their consent by the way. If a woman between the ages of twenty and twenty-five years old, white, around six feet, dies, I could use her legs. Don't look at me with that horrified look, of course I'll check if the legs are in good shape."

"The legs of a dead person?"

"Recently died, the legs must be fresh."

Emily was not seduced by the idea of being half-mechanical, but having the half-body of another was no better. While she could not tame her animal part, accepting a foreign part, belonging to another human being, would be an ordeal she was not sure of taking up. Her palm slipped on her fish tail, a palm dreaming of touching a thigh, a knee. By finding a whole body, her runs would resume, her training too. She would be complete again.

"Where do you plan to find legs?"

"A hospital, a morgue, a prison. The places are not lacking."

Emily crushed her cigarette in a nervous laugh.

"A prison? Choose a candidate without a tattoo: if the next Empress has daggers or skulls tattooed under the belt, I can't imagine the rumors that will be invented."

"As a heiress, you're the one who launches the fashion in the salons, the trend would be original."

"Do you think you can do this?"

"Your question is almost hurtful, Lady Kaldwin. I would not tell you if I thought the operation impossible."

"I'm only asking you for one thing, then. I want the prisoner or the sick person to know that she will bequeathing her legs to someone. And I want her to agree."

"To leave her legs to the heiress of the throne? Do you really think that the person will have the choice?"

"You will not tell her anything about my identity. Especially since no one knows what happened to me, my fishtail is a state secret."

"I'll try to obtain the agreement of your benefactor, Lady Kaldwin, if it's the only condition for you to let me lead this experience, the price isn't high."

Jindosh voluntarily forgot to mention that subjects in asylums and prisons had few rights. The insane, anonymous prisoners and patients rarely knew the rest of a burial, knowing only the cold table of a laboratory or the dark cellars of forbidden cults. But Emily would not have to worry about it: only the survival of this operation was the essential point.

The inventor smiled as he turned away, letting Emily put on her shirt, ready to go with her for lunch.

* * *

Jessamine rolled on the mattress, caressed by the sheet, caressed by Corvo's hands. He enveloped her in loving warmth, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her loose hair. Lying on her stomach, she savored those fingers that drew the line of her shoulder to the arch of her back, venturing on the curve of her bottom. Corvo felt all the muscles contract under his touch. He smiled when he heard Jessamine moaning: his fingers had arrived between the thighs, exerting a slight pressure to make her languish.

"Lie on your back." He murmured, and his queen obeyed. Only dressed with shadows, in all her femininity, Jessamine still remained the Empress of her life, the one he always loved. By day he looked at her tenderly, happy whenever he could touch her, walk beside her. But by night, Corvo loved her with a burning love, allowed to let his desires direct his actions. He began to kiss Jessamine's breasts, feeling his wife's thighs grip his waist.

She touched Corvo's shoulders: he was as strong as he was ten years ago. And she savored this strength: when they were alone, he could grab her, hold her in his arms like a passionate man, forgetting the titles and rules. Soon, she felt Corvo's hair brush the inside of her thighs. After the kisses, the tongue came to snuggle between the two lips and Jessamine arched, a delighted look on the face, ready to melt.

A sound of broken glass echoed down the hall; breaking the embrace of the two lovers.

"What was that?"

Corvo pushed aside the blanket, grabbed a pair of pants, and rushed out of the room with his sword in his hand. There was no light in the hallway but the Dark Vision allowed the Royal Protector to scrutinize the place, and those beyond. Some feminine silhouettes were barely perceptible.

Four guards had joined Corvo.

"Lord Corvo, we heard some noise."

"It came from there. Bertram, stay near the Empress's room, we'll see what is going on."

Bertram nodded and, silently, the team moved on: there was no obstacle blocking them for the moment. But Corvo accelerated the pace when he understood: the silhouettes were trying to enter a secret room. The room where the prison of the usurper was held. He walked towards the women without explanation, followed by the guards.

"Take out the revolvers. Use them if intruders do not surrender." Corvo advised, while he was only with his sword. He thought he was good enough to compete with witches. The silhouettes were perfectly drawn now and by sticking to the door that separated them, Corvo could hear the burglars.

"... you're clumsy, Adela! Your mother fucked with a bear or what?"

"You can shut up: your unsightly voice will attract all the guard!"

"Enough!"

They whispered like angry snakes, spitting their venom. Corvo made a sign to one of the guards who opened the door and held on to the three women in the room. A lamp placed at their feet cast monstrous shadows on the walls, deformed by the hunting trophies, gluing on the royal portraits.

"Don't move."

The witches immediately raised their hands, stoic.

They were docile, strangely peaceful. Corvo feared that thorns would be sent to them in the face, he feared a surprise attack. Plus, their small number was suspicious: they were only three—

One of the guards then fell to the ground, the chest pierced by a peak that began to bloom, drinking from the blood of the dead to give life to some buds. Corvo looked at him with horror: the blow came from behind.

"We are returning the order, gentlemen: don't move."

A witch, her arm covered with lianas and pointed leaves, reached out to them, ready to kill again. Behind Corvo and the two living guards, Claudia giggled, excited like a child. She, Billie and Adela had intentionally made noise to attract their enemies in this small room. She grabbed Billie's hand and, with a broad smile on her face, murmured:

"Delilah, here we come!"


	4. Chapter 3

/!\ /!\ /!\ **THAT CHAPTER WASN'T BETA-READED.** /!\ /!\ /!\  
I'm a French native/speaker/writer, I always translate my fic myself then ask for a beta-reading. I wrote two more chapters in French and my beta-reader is a bit busy nowadays (as I should be but oh well, ahah, writing a fic instead of my thesis, I'll burn in Hell or whatever) and I never push the nice people who agreed to correct my mistakes.

I give you the unbeta-readed (?) chapter 3 but read at your own risk or wait a bit~

(I guess it's still better than reading the French version with google translate, ahah)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3**

Billie had never seen so much luxury with her own eyes. The room was, however, a small smoking room that housed two armchairs and a coffee table. Paintings adorned the walls while the details of the blue wallpaper were already very rich. A wall mural, cut in amaranth, extended in a long line, representing a scene of aquatic life: wooden whales, fishes and octopuses were frozen between seaweed and shells. The work was so neat that the animals seemed alive, ready to move to the bottom of this purple sea.

Billie did not belong in this frame, nor did Claudia or Adela. The latter was holding a glass that was more valuable than all the meals she had eaten in her life. An abused teenage girl who had fled the orphanage, her porcelain face still bore a few scars and, when she opened her mouth, a gaping hole appeared in place of the canine that fell last year.

"Ready?"

Her arm was shaking. All three were novices, but it was Adela who felt the less confident. Billie glanced at Claudia: she was breathing with difficulty, her breasts crushed by her corset with every nervous and quick inspiration. Billie, meanwhile, felt the adrenaline mingle with ease with her blood: used to the fights, her veins already knew this particular heart rate.

"For Delilah", murmured Claudia.

And the glass burst against the tiles.

The remains brushed their ankles and scratched the floor. The witches watched the debris shine under the flame of the lamp, waiting for the slightest sound. They heard only their breathing. Billie licked her lips and the three of them suddenly tensed: there was finally some agitation in the corridor.

"Damn! How you're clumsy, Adela! Your mother fucked with a bear or what?"

"You can shut up: your unsightly voice will attract all the guard!"

"That's enough!"

And the door opened on four armed men.

"Don't move."

Billie saw Blanche's venomous shadow behind them and was not surprised when one of the guards collapsed, pierced by a plant cone. The witch laughed at them, returning the order. The spilled blood gave the novices confidence: Claudia was jubilant and Billie could admire the hole in Adela's teeth.

The redhead released the hand of her love and seized an enemy to gag him. As for Billie, she approached the Royal Protector whom she had recognized. In spite of his age, his completely unveiled stature left no doubt: Corvo was a though opponent. That did not frighten Billie because she had already proven herself in combat, even against elite guards.

Anyway, it was only necessary to immobilize them.

Corvo felt a hand rest on his mouth as one arm held his neck. The witch in front of him paid no attention to the other guards: her poisonous green eyes pierced _him_. Her whole body quivered with hatred. Corvo was the one who had locked Delilah in the painting and Blanche would have liked to open his trachea.

"Well, well, Royal Protector, a little sound of glass and here you are, out of bed and barely dressed. We had planned to destroy the wall, I dare not imagine in which outfit you would have arrived then."

The enchantress laughed ferociously. Corvo did not move his jaws: if the witches intended to destroy the wall, it was because they did not know how to open the trunk that contained Delilah's painting. A chest that opened only when the mural was correctly handled: this padlock disguised as a decorative element was designed by Sokolov himself. A complex and neat work. The combination, difficult to memorize, had been reproduced on a bracelet where the order of algae and animals had been carved on ivory pearls. And this bracelet was near the bed of the Empress.

The guard Claudia was gaging screamed and his knees dropped. Billie had not seen what had happened: she thought at first that Claudia, in her enthusiasm, had hurt the man, not respecting the original plan. Blanche had exactly the same thought and gave her disciple a death stare.

Corvo took advantage of the moment of confusion to swing forward, taking Billie with him. The woman was propelled but managed to recover. She planted her nails in Corvo's neck and landed on her lap, causing him to lose his balance for a short while. He managed to push her away with the handle of his sword. The one marked by the Outsider never demonstrated his gifts, but the thought of Jessamine confirmed that urgency was more important than discretion. Stunned, Billie felt the body of the man evaporate in her hands: Corvo had just teleported to the end of the corridor, escaping the witches.

Adela and Claudia were overwhelmed by the guards. The hostage of Claudia, who had simulated a pain to destabilize the assailants, struck the tip of the barrel of his revolver against the forehead of her jailer. As for the youngest apprentice, she had fallen after a trip.

Always quick to react, Billie took again her knife and began to attack the two adversaries like a furious cat: she wanted to recover Claudia and Adela, to save the woman she loved and this girl who seemed lost. The blade sank into the forearm of the first opponent, releasing the teenager who took the opportunity to flee. Then, the tip of the weapon aimed the eye of the second enemy, sliding on the cheekbone. Billie grabbed Claudia's hand and dragged her into the race. They had fulfilled their part of the contract: to make diversion while the witches searched for the code of the safe. She had no regrets to let Blanche fend for herself.

In front of the door of the room, Bertram was on the ground strangled by ivy that seemed to act by itself, his face began to turn blue and his tongue protruded from his lips. Sitting in the bed, Jessamine had armed herself with the revolver she kept in her bedside table. Since the attack of Delilah, the Empress had become her own bodyguard, following Corvo's training.

Three witches were there, trying to blend into the shadows of the night while apprehending the actions of their opponent. When Jessamine saw Corvo, she pointed the gun at him, called him in a loud voice and pulled the trigger. Quick, as if time was slower in his situation, Corvo's arm rose and the sword struck the bullet. The marble of lead went through the temples of a first witch and stopped its race only when it got stuck at the bottom of the skull of a second, tearing the folds of the brain, burning her last thoughts.

The remaining sorcerer screamed and rushed at the Empress, her nails ready to burst her eyes. Corvo teleported to the enemy and grabbed her throat, squeezing her neck in the crook of his elbow. Despite the dim light, Jessamine could see the witch's eyes bulging with rage. Then the eyelids became heavy and hid this gulf of hatred. Unceremoniously, Corvo threw the unconscious woman to the ground and took Jessamine in his arms. She responded to his embrace.

"I'm fine, Corvo. I'm fine."

"I know. I just need to hold you against me."

"The painting is—?"

"Still safe. But obviously, secrets never stay hidden long in Dunwall—"

The guards who had accompanied Corvo arrived, making sure that the Empress was safe. One was compressing the wound of his forearm with his hand, the other concealing his eye. They informed their superior that the intruders had fled. The news was bad but Corvo tried to relativize. First of all, the three women in the room were not witches, they were certainly novices, bait paid and, returning with failure, they would be removed from the projects or even eliminated. As for the witch who had killed one of their comrades, although she had fled too, Corvo was planning to have the one he knocked out talk to him to get some names. They would see each other again.

"Nice initiative, Weldon." Corvo congratulated the guard who had had the brilliant idea of making a diversion. Corvo was sincere; otherwise the night would have been worse without the improvisation of his colleague. He carefully noted this act of bravery and, if the matter were to reach the editor of the newspaper, Corvo would ensure that the name of Weldon would not only occupy an unfortunate line in a column, and he would not forget the one who died in battle.

* * *

Jessamine thought the night very long: sleep was repulsed by the questions and worries that were lurking in her mind. Her insomnia was shared by Corvo, who slowly approached her. They were hidden under the sheets like two children who dreaded witches, seeking shelter in the arms of the fabric.

"You never told me why you refused me to kill Delilah."

"I've a heart too tender." She was trying to hide her embarrassment with a little humor. Yet even in the dark, Corvo knew he would have to dig deeper to know the truth. Except for the family bond that tied his wife to this horrible witch, he knew nothing.

'There could be a fire in this room. A painting burns much faster than a body. Wood, canvas, products in painting—"

"No, Corvo. Please. You must know what I mean since you have a sister too."

"Who has never sent mercenaries to kill me."

Jessamine turned her back with a tired sigh. She did not resist when Corvo slid his hand between hers, leaning in those hot palms.

"Delilah's your sister and she wants to take your place on the throne. I can understand that you refuse to have her executed, but you're showing too much leniency for her."

The Empress tightened her fingers on Corvo's ones.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

"When I was a child, I was cruel with Delilah."

He did not press her with questions: if Jessamine agreed to open one of the corners of this tender heart, he would let the wind of words push the door for him.

"It's quite stupid— Delilah and I played very often together without disturbing anyone. Until the day I wanted to play with crystal figurines that belonged to my grandmother. Delilah was less enthusiastic but she agreed to take part: I had chosen a beautiful ship and she had taken an octopus. We imagined that the octopus wanted to get on board." Jessamine explained nostalgically. She remembered how the rays had illuminated these transparent forms. Delilah and she had been fascinated by the rainbows dancing on the carpet that afternoon. "Then I decided that the octopus couldn't be part of the crew, I snatched the figurine from her hands and I knocked the boat down on it. Everything broke with a horrible noise and a servant entered. I didn't think: I knew they were valuables and I was so scared. I cowardly accused Delilah. Nobody put my word in doubt even if I cut my thumb a little. I didn't see Delilah again, but I knew that the punishment had been severe."

"And that's why you feel responsible?"

"That's silly, I know. But I was a liar and this memory still hurts me, Corvo. We always raised Emily to be honest and brave, if she knew that her own mother had been an odious little—

"Jessamine, all the kids do bad things."

"There's a difference between stealing an apple before the meal and accusing someone who gets beaten."

"You might not have lied if you knew the consequences."

"I don't see how it alleviates my fault."

"Okay, Delilah was unjustly punished with your charge, but your finger was hurt. How is it that no one has noticed? Adults must act with maturity with children."

Corvo remembered one time Emily had thrown a lesson book through her balcony. The eleven-years-old girl pretended she did not know where it had been, but lie was a mask that was too difficult to wear. Insecure, Emily had not held more than fifteen minutes when her father questioned her and finally confessed with a shameful face.

"And what did the great Royal Protector do in his life to know both children and their vices?" Jessamine asked, finally turning to him.

"You would be surprised. At fourteen, I drank in the glass of a drunkard. He was too blind to notice me, but we don't deceive a drunk man about alcohol: he saw that his glass was less full. I managed to make him believe that cider evaporated faster than water and that he had to drink the rest quickly."

They burst out laughing together: they had shared a thousand memories, a thousand confessions, a thousand thoughts, but some still remained to be discovered. Corvo put his lips on Jessamine's forehead.

"We all did some nonsense, Jessamine. It doesn't make you a horrible or vile person. You don't have to blame yourself too harshly: those who hurt Delilah are the ones who exiled her and punished her severely."

"Still, promise me that you will not touch the painting. Whether I feel guilty or not doesn't change anything: don't kill Delilah, Corvo, please."

He promised not to fire the canvas since his love asked him.

The morning mail added some balm to the heart: Kirin Jindosh told them that their daughter was now at home, in good health. Without the events of the night, Jessamine would have taken a boat to Karnaca, accompanied by Corvo. But the witches' attack kept them from seeing Emily even for a few days.

The Empress took the pen and answered Jindosh's financial requests. In a small suitcase, she put on some necessities, some shirts, some underwear and, confident in the abilities of the Inventor, added two trousers. With a tender gesture, she added hairpins belonging to the heiress. These ivory stems would soon touch Emily's hair. The mother laid a kiss on it, hoping that this contact would reach her daughter's locks.

* * *

Before she could find a more appropriate accessory, Emily stuck a pen to hold her bun. As long as it did not fall into the water, Jindosh would not tell her anything. Or rather, he will not know. She had hesitated with other tools that were on his desk but she preferred not to touch it. At dawn, the Inventor had warned her that he would be away for the day and that he would not be home until nightfall. He had also repeated his warning that the heiress should not venture into the mansion. It had been three days since the mermaid had bathed in the underground lake and the owner wanted to make sure that she would be less adventurous in the future.

For the moment, her only daring act was to sit at Jindosh's desk. Hands crossed in front of her, her back straight, Emily looked at the clockwork soldier who was standing to the left of the office, static.

"Soldier. Bring me some tea." Emily jumped when the bird's head turned to her. "Forget what I just said, I was joking. Besides you can't even carry a cup."

Taking care to not disrupt the order of this universe of papers, screws and magnifying glasses, Emily explored the place of work of her host. Leaves were covered with calculations that seemed to combine impossible measures, from the infinitely small to the infinitely large. There were symbols that Emily did not recognize and the results went beyond her understanding. Luckily, Jindosh did not just speak the language of the numbers and she found some correspondence. There were answers for customers wishing to buy his creations and to-do lists. Jindosh had noticed somewhere that he had to adjust the temperature of the water robot in the kitchen, finding his coffee or tea still too hot.

Emily found documents tied with a strap, a message on top of it. Sokolov's signature at the bottom of the page immediately caught his eye.

" _My dear Jindosh,_

 _Several years have passed since your expulsion from the Academy of Natural Philosophy, yet I have never forgotten your talent. That is why I spoke about you to our Empress and I think that with the bases that I could gather and your skills, you will be able to help the heiress._

 _You have never followed the advice of others, but I want to warn you anyway: please, Jindosh, respect the limits of common sense and ethics. This is our future Empress._

 _Anton Sokolov_ "

It was a rather short letter, but it allowed the reader to know two things: that Jindosh was a former student of the Tyvian teacher and that he had been expelled from the Academy of Natural Philosophy. Emily would have liked to know why, but judging by the old professor's tone, there was certainly a connection withJindosh's questionable morality. She understood better why the scientist had so easily abandoned the idea of mechanical legs for a transplant. It only remained for her to hope that he would keep his commitments regarding her only wish: a perfectly willing donor.

Emily then found a drawing. Even if it was only a sketch, it was enough to see that Jindosh did not have the talent of Sokolov. The Tyvian professor was very expressive in his art: his portraits reflected an angular view of the world while marrying the colors with a unique harmony. If Sokolov favored hard angles, Jindosh seemed to prefer curves and precise details. The pencil had danced a waltz on the paper, printing a tail of fish traced with lead. Each shell was a small bridge and they dressed all the space, reaching a woman's stomach. The portrait was incomplete, content with the subject of study, but Emily had recognized herself, although she did not think herself so thin.

Through being measured, weighed, silvergraphied, and analyzed, Emily had come to the conclusion that Jindosh knew her body better than the men with whom she had shared her bed. Absorbed in his work, Jindosh touched Emily as a phrenologist fumbles the skull of a criminal. He analyzed her as a zoologist who would have discovered a new animal. All his contacts were mechanical but were still marked with a certain respect. She appreciated how he asked her each time the authorization to lift her, to carry her. This study prolonged Emily's pleasure of being a mystical creature. She who had always dreamed of monstrous tales, of fantastic myths, her hybrid body composed her own legend.

However the mermaid had begun to be bored of her condition: the chimeras were deceiving the men's eyes for about fifty pages; Emily had had fun playing the naiad for sixteen long months. Even the most mischievous fairy would have been bored. Long exiled from the human world, the creature took pleasure in becoming Emily Kaldwin, the heir to the throne of the Empire of the Islands again. She often discussed with Jindosh, had got back to human gestures and daily habits again. The modified part of her body became more bearable and soon her siren condition would be reduced to memory.

The scientist and the heiress shared meals as well as conversations, and if Emily had noticed that her host was rather talkative, he was mostly narcissistic and showed only the best of himself. The guest knew few details about Jindosh and she wanted to analyze this eccentric being at her turn.

Raising the sketch, the siren noticed that a text was written on the back.

" _Dear Kirin,_ " was the first line. The sender could only be a relative or an intimate person to use the first name of the Inventor. Emily hesitated but the missive was so short that her eyes had already read everything.

" _Dear Kirin,_

 _There was a demonstration of your clockwork soldiers near our home, I wanted to take our mother there but she refused. I attended it alone and was very impressed. It may be too late to tell you, but I'm proud of you._

 _Emil Jindosh_ "

The date was recent: Kirin Jindosh had received these compliments a month ago. The young woman put the letter down carefully, the face with the sketch turned towards her. She understood that it was the brother, elder or younger, of the Inventor. The distant tone of the missive did not reflect a brotherly love. And if Jindosh had used it as draft paper, it was unlikely that these compliments would really make him happy. With his pronounced tendency to work, Emily had almost forgotten that Jindosh could have a family and the worries that go with it usually.

* * *

"My dear Jindosh!"

Jindosh smirked a smile: he hated that one precedes his name of this 'dear' so exuberant. Few people really thought that the Inventor was _dear_ to them. At least the smile of Baroness Finch's nephew seemed sincere.

"My _dear_ Finch."

The little man, round as a carboy, walked towards his guest. Jindosh almost had to lean over to shake Amos Finch's chubby hand. When a guard closed the big portal, the iron began to whine, interrupting the birds' song and the buzzing of the insects. The many flowers in the garden imitated the palette of colors of a painter, brightening the horizon of the hospital that stood above.

"You arrive at a quiet hour, Jindosh: the pills have been administered and all the patients are quiet, adorably quiet."

Far from being a doctor, Amos Finch was rather the benefactor of the Asylum of Karnaca. Vaguely curious about the sciences of the mind, Finch was especially attracted by the prestige of the position of director. Whenever he was called doctor Finch, pride crowned him like an emperor. Jindosh felt a certain disdain for this valuable title bought like a property, but he had no resentment against Finch in particular. He knew it: money was a god who fascinated as much as the Outsider. And precisely: Finch quickly noticed the briefcase Jindosh was holding.

"You came with some gifts?"

"I never come empty-handed, Finch."

"Always so courteous, Jindosh, so courteous, a real model that I should follow! Look at us: we started chatting while we're still in the gardens! Come, we will enjoy the splendid view from my office. A beautifully splendid view."

Finch had this verbal tic that made him to repeat and amplify every sentence just so he could kill silence. The absence of noise seemed to be a phobia.

Before reaching the top floor of the building and gazing at Karnaca, the two men had to cross the asylum. Inside, the large windows were concealed by curtains so the bright light of the region does not scare the most sensitive patients. Few furniture filled the void of this immense hall: security was getting along with reserved simplicity.

In one corner there was a coffin-shaped cage. During Jindosh's last visit, the Inventor had seen a man who seemed as strong as an ox locked up in that prison. The insane man had continually tapped his forehead against the bars until marks were printed on his head and he had sung obscene songs Jindosh had heard from the upper floor. But everything was for the safety of the patient, the precious safety of the patient according to the director. Whenever a patient behaved badly, horribly badly, Finch's face turned red and he began to stammer, stifled with shame. Jindosh had an irresistible desire to laugh every time he saw the baroness' nephew annihilated by embarrassment.

When the elevator arrived, a nurse with an elderly patient freed the place. The nurse greeted them respectfully and asked the patient to do the same. The old woman, her eyes bright, nodded but only in the direction of Jindosh, totally ignoring the director of the establishment.

Amos Finch did not lie when he praised the beauty of his office and the landscape. The room had been set up in a veranda where the stained glass windows replaced the paintings and, under the pieces of colored glass, Karnaca shone. The sea became sometimes green, sometimes violet or sometimes orange. The buildings, with red or cream facades, played with hues, dressing with varied lights. It was scarcely noon and the sun made the swells shine. A pleasant breeze was spinning on the balcony, inviting the two men to savor its fresh hugs. Jindosh settled into one of the red leather armchairs that were protected under an awning. He kept the briefcase close to him, making it clear to his potential seller that the business was not yet concluded. Finch poured whiskey into two glasses and they clinked them.

"You must know, Finch, that it's not just for courtesy that I brought back a little something. As I said in my message, I have a service to ask you."

"Do you have a new experience going on, Jindosh?"

"Effectively. You will forgive me for not being able to tell you about it at the moment: to be in my secret would expose you to danger."

"To danger? What danger?"

"Because if the experiment goes wrong, you will know that I failed and I can't stand that my bruised ego has witnesses."

Finch laughed with his guest.

"Oh yes, it would be a real danger! But well, you must tell me what you need?"

"I need a patient. Anonymous if possible or a person who no longer has any family."

"But you will return him to me?"

"I hope, that's my goal anyway. But the experience may be quite long and no family could endure an absence of two weeks without asking questions."

Pensive, Finch raised his face. The spots of color slipped on his skin and scrambled his expression, making it puzzled. Many of the patients were dropouts or exiled members, and if they were not orphans, their family did not seek to see them again. However, relatives paid internment and some paid astronomical sums: when they could not love with the heart, they loved with coins. In addition, like any good noble, Amos Finch was allergic to scandal, but he could trust Jindosh on this point: all the rumors about the Inventor had never been proven. Himself he had never dared to ask the concerned who were true and which ones were false.

"You surely need a deposit." Jindosh remarked, finally handing the briefcase over to Finch. The director was now allowed to open the folder and inspect the inside: there was a lot of money. But in addition to the fascinating color of the ingots, there was an opportunity to the key.

"That said, my failure would be a profit for you, Finch, because it would make me come back for another subject and it would take only two more sums like this one to be able to offer you one of my clockwork soldiers."

This precision filled the director with joy. The Karnaca Asylum did not really need a clockwork soldier, especially since the machine could scare a few residents, but the pleasure of owning one of these killer birds was a way to expose its wealth. The soldier would be sublime in a corner of the office: inactive, it would be an original decorative element, the olive wood would be painted by the colored rays, the metal would be brightened. And in case of intrusion, the robot would defend Finch.

The little man got up from his chair and approached Jindosh, grabbing his hand to squeeze it.

"Deal, my dear Jindosh, it's a deal!"

Still this 'dear'. The amount paid would be mostly reimbursed by Jessamine Kaldwin, but as for his patience, it would be exhausted. Jindosh hoped his time would not be lost.

"Come, tell me which patient corresponds to your projects."

* * *

Emily rolled the wheelchair to the elevator. She had grown tired of doing several laps on the top floor of this laboratory and there was nothing left to explore. Moreover, noon approached and she was planning to serve herself in the kitchen.

The young woman was impressed by the silence: when Jindosh was present, his monologues were the signs of life in the house. Now she only heard belts, gears and cables. All the organs of the manor, formerly discreet, resounded under the floors and behind the walls.

Despite the warnings, Emily wanted to take advantage of Jindosh's absence to discover more places. She stopped on the floor of the guest area. The gates of the elevator opened on a living room with a glass floor, the famous glass floor under which she had swum. The mermaid perceived the place better now: a harp, a piano, chairs, tables ready to welcome a buffet. Much smaller than Dunwall's reception hall, certainly, but the room was brighter. There was a charm in this house that seduced Emily. She moved the wheels of her chair when a clockwork soldier appeared just in front of her, spreading its blades as a threatening gesture.

" _Profile identified: Emily Kaldwin. You do not have permission to go further. Only the laboratory and the kitchen are accessible to you._ "

The blades dissuaded Emily from insisting. With legs, she would have slipped under the machine or flew over, but with her fishtail, the siren would be operated before time. She sighed and returned to the elevator, sticking her tongue out.

"You've forgotten the title of nobility, it's _Lady_ Emily Kaldwin."

In her mind, she was already planning to go explore Jindosh's room: this place was not forbidden to her and there was a mechanism she would have liked to learn to handle, just for the sake of refuting him about her intellectual abilities.

* * *

'This one's from Tyvia, she came to Karnaca twenty years ago to rest, but her condition worsened and she never returned home."

The patient was the one who had greeted Jindosh in the lobby. Again, her stoic profile was solely for the Inventor. She had the white complexion of Tyvian natives whom the climate of Serkonos had not succeeded in modifying. Just as her eyes had the color of icy seas and this lucidity did not accord with any neurosis. The old woman stared at all the visitors in the hope that one day someone would notice that she was sane, but if Jindosh was an excellent observer, he was not altruistic. He knew that sane people were locked up here among lunatics, just as he knew that orphans were being mistreated in refuges, as he knew that hospitalized young women were raped by the doctors. The misery of the world left him indifferent.

"But I guess that a young subject would be better?"

"A young subject is more likely to survive the experiment, yes."

It was time for manual work at the hospital, deepening the appetite before lunch. Young skinny girls were sewing, their faces expressionless but soothed. Drugged with laudanum, the patients were allowed to use pointed or sharp tools, but when the effects would finished, everything would be neatly stored in padlocked compartments. An old man was painting on a wooden board. He tried to put the tip of the brush in his mouth but a nurse prevented him every time, telling him he would eat later. The artist was floating in his shirt and Jindosh was not sure he was eating enough.

The Inventor saw a patient with morphology close to Emily's: a tall blonde who was threading beads on a string. She had a soft look, and from time to time she raised her collar under her nose to mimic a mustache and made her neighbors and the staff laugh.

"This one would be perfect."

"I can't remember her name, though. Agnes or Irene? I can't tell—"

"No matter what her identity is, Finch, as long her family, if there's still one, don't ask about her every week."

"That, on the other hand, I'm sure: she has only an aunt who lives in the north of the island. She is over fifty and moves little."

The girl looked at Jindosh and began to mimic a mustache with a big smile. Her totally faded irises did not reflect any emotion. She was not aware of what she was doing. Abandoned and dizzy, yes, she would be perfect.

"Nurses will bring her to you tomorrow morning. We'll see each other the next day at Breanna Ashworth's reception anyway, then you'll give me some news, won't you?"

"Of course. By the way, mind to give a little something to the nurses, just to pay their silence."

"Yes, yes, indeed, we must pay their silence."

* * *

Emily operated the lever a first time. The center of the room turned, furniture was replaced by other, adapting to the new function of the place. She moved the mechanism again and eventually, she recognized a bedroom, a bathroom or an office. However she did not recognize the usefulness of this carousel.

"How many afternoons of boredom before inventing that?"

The soldier behind her looked like it was put to sleep but Emily did not care: active or not, the automatons never answered her. She still had fun talking to them.

"Didn't you ever tell him it wasn't practical to take a pee during the night?"

Emily manipulated the lever several times to memorize what was changing. If the apparent walls were changing, the recesses too and the young woman suspected the presence of some secret passages. Handicapped by her legs, Emily had to postpone further exploration for later.

Her wheelchair advanced to a gallery of silvergraphs. She knew the invention but she had never seen so many shots in the same place. The heiress had only visited the wide of Serkonos and its sea currents; there she discovered streets, faces, houses, slices of life. Emily hoped to be as close to her people as her mother was, and she watched the pictures carefully. In order to better see those hung higher, the siren left her chair to sit on the edge of the desk. By leaning, she inadvertently activated the audiograph.

" _Lady Kaldwin is a very interesting subject._ " The named one jumped, almost persuaded that Jindosh had come back and had just called her. When she realized that a recording had just begun, she expired at length to calm her distraught heart.

" _I'd never studied a fish woman and I regret having to operate instead of dissecting her: it's a rare and I would have liked to keep her as she's now. But I have commitments to keep— She explained to me that she felt abandoned in the sea, but Lady Kaldwin seems to forget that she has her family to support her. A young nobleman like her certainly did not imagine living such a situation where there's neither luxury nor etiquette._ " Emily felt upset. Jindosh seemed to feel some rancor against the well-born. Now, the more she pondered, the more she realized that Jindosh's name did not recall her anything: there were such gold names as the Boyle or the Bunting; then there were more discreet families like the Ramsey. She tried to remember all her lessons and the surname Jindosh never emerged. The manor, the ease of life, the acquaintances, the Academy, all of this was accessible because Kirin Jindosh had surpassed his contemporaries just with his mind. " _I thought her case would tire me, but it was before I was inspired for another idea about it: instead of mechanical prosthesis, a transplant would be possible. I've already managed to bring together both parts of a dead body. I would have to try on a living subject to be sure that the experience with Lady Kaldwin could be successful since The Royal Protector was unequivocal: the death of his daughter would provoke mine. Anyway, I'm confident and Lady Kaldwin has become a fascinating subject again._ "

The young woman remained pensive: she thought that Jindosh was an inventor, an engineer who only took care of gears or bolts; obviously, he improvised himself as a surgeon too. She wondered how far this man could be amoral. And when he had gathered the two parts of a corpse?

* * *

Breanna Ashworth was an elegant woman. Billie did not know if this grace was an appearance modeled by spells, but despite the bad news reported, the curator remained dignified. Her face was leaning over the guest list for her next reception, betraying no expression. The three novices and Blanche were standing in a row in front of the director, just under an imposing chandelier. Among the paintings, a stuffed owl watched them with its eyes that looked like two yellow moons. A smell of flowers, subtle blend of jasmine and honeysuckle, perfumed the air, but Billie could not see any plant. Maybe it was Breanna's perfume.

"What happened?"

"Claudia injured a guard while we only had to immobilize them for our sisters could recover the code on the bracelet."

Claudia was suffocated but did not dare to contradict her superior in front of Breanna. Already white, her face was now livid.

"If you allow me to give you my version, Lady Ashworth?"

Despite the polite tone, Billie took a step forward, leaving no choice to the curator. Breanna gave her the permission.

"Claudia did nothing. The guard pretended to be hurt to destabilize us. The Royal Protector, whom I held, took the opportunity to escape. We had to fight with the two remaining guards and even though they were inferior in numbers, we were overwhelmed. Claudia and Adela never had to face guards."

"And how did you get out of it?"

"I always have a knife on me. Not much and that can't compete with a sword but used well, it is an effective weapon. By attacking the two guards, I opened the way for Claudia and Adela to escape. It was an unequal fight and I didn't want them to be killed stupidly."

Breanna raised her eyebrows and looked at Blanche. The witch nodded with confirmation: she had been surprised by Billie's reactivity as she was usually so dull and quiet.

"You protected your sisters. Tell me your name."

"Billie Lurk."

"Blanche, what about our other sisters?"

The witch stopped biting her lower lip to answer:

"I don't know. I also preferred to follow Billie because I suspected they would need help leaving the Dunwall Tower. I was the only one with powers and we were able to flee all four. I don't know if the Royal Protector executed our sisters or if they are held captive."

An displeasing silence passed. Billie listened to the visitors of the Royal Conservatory who expressed how delighted they were by the wonders they observed. She loved the place herself and the director's office was a real museum. But the moment was ill chosen to admire the silvergraphs and the multitude of encyclopedias preserved behind Breanna.

"I'm very disappointed, Blanche." Her voice was cold and a breakup would have been less painful for Blanche. The young witch lowered her head, her shoulders slumped: the weight of guilt replaced the pressure of the chandelier above her head.

"I am, too, Lady Ashworth. And I'm waiting for the first opportunity to redeem myself."

The curator dismissed them but asked Billie to stay a little longer. Claudia was annoyed: the young woman cast a look of jealousy to her superior, a look that escaped her and she turned away very quickly, hiding her feelings. She wanted to be Breanna and Delilah's favorite _with_ Billie. It was out of the question that her lover would receive favors without her.

Billie approached the office. Breanna had never noticed her before: too discreet, too retiring, this novice had never looked to be involved in anything. The curator noted rigidity in the features of this woman who did not seem to know fear. How was it that she had never spotted this apprentice?

"Why did you help your associates?" Breanna used the word 'associates' and not 'sisters' just like before. Billie suspected that there was an intention behind it: to look detached so she could not influence her answer.

"I didn't want Adela to lose her life that night, it would have been unfair as she left a life of misery behind her to move on."

"And for Claudia?"

"Because I love her."

Breanna noted how Billie justified herself for saving Adela, while for Claudia the reason was brief: love. The curator was born into a family rich in fortune but poor in affection. Belonging to the fair sex, Breanna Ashworth was only a candidate to marry, a womb to produce heirs, a living decoration of worldly salons. She had never regretted having fled this golden world, discovering more intense joys in Delilah's arms. One day, Delilah had told her how much she loved that romantic side, a side that Breanna was trying to hide by social habit, but she knew how sentimental she was.

Billie's answer pleased her and the lady even smiled, surprising the novice.

"I see. You must understand why I want to release Delilah then."

Billie had imagined the witches were trying to free their mistress to place her on the throne, but Breanna was visibly motivated by more powerful feelings. Billie would kill anyone who would attack Claudia; Breanna would do the same for Delilah. But the novice was less romantic than her superior: she was more passionate, more ardent and especially more mutilated. Past disappointments and Claudia's changes had disillusioned her about the subject of love.

If the witch had wanted to give her more importance in her plans, Billie would have refused. Luckily, Breanna offered her nothing and allowed her to leave.

Claudia was waiting at the corner of the corridor, her lips stretched into a smile: she was relieved that the interview was so short finally. She wrapped her arms around Billie's shoulders and kissed her under the ear. The black hair still bore some traces of salt, memories of the boat trip to return to Karnaca.

"What did she tell you?"

"She asked me why I protected you."

"And what did you answer?"

"That I love you."

For a brief instant, Billie found the old Claudia again. Freckles, signs of innocence, red hair, proof of passion. They kissed each other by tying their fingers together.

"I thought for a moment that she was going to make you a witch, a favorite.

"I thought it too, but I would have refused."

Claudia broke the embrace, taken aback.

"Why?"

"It's not my fight, Claudia. What Breanna feels for Delilah, I can understand, but I won't love them. If I'm here, it's because you wanted to follow them. But there's only you who counts."

It was not enough for Claudia. She admired Billie's gesture of saving her for love. But if her involvement did not go further, then it made no sense.

"Billie. If I become a witch, if I become a favorite, will you still love me?"

The two women crossed their arms at the same time, unconsciously.

"I hope I will." It was her only answer. Without waiting for a reaction, Billie turned on her heels.

* * *

Jindosh was leaning on the inside balcony: he suspected that Emily would be in the underground lake again and he was right. The mermaid seemed to enjoy this corner with the waterfalls and the closeness to nature.

"Would you like to come over, Lady Kaldwin? I have something for you."

The creature approached the edge, sprouted her hair and wiped herself before putting on her shirt. Just using her arms, she climbed the stones and went over the guardrail. Back in her wheelchair, Emily saw a suitcase near Jindosh. A suitcase that belonged to her.

"What is it?"

"Some of your belongings we've received today."

With a sudden joy, Emily opened the box and observed the objects inside. They were only clothes, care products, trivia, but the siren felt she found a little more of her lost humanity day after day. She brandishes one of the trousers.

"You were pretentious enough to tell my mother to send trousers?"

"No." Replied the inventor, surprised. "It's on her own, but I'm very flattered."

Emily delved deeper into business and laughed: now she could brush her teeth, take care of her nails, perfume and wax. Decidedly her mother had thought of all the details. An heiress had an image to look after and the Empress took care of her daughter's appearance.

"Now that you have something to occupy, will you stop coming here?"

"No I won't. I love swimming in this pool and there's no danger, I respect your instructions. But perhaps you're afraid that I understand the mechanisms of the manor and that I explore it more?"

"I'm not afraid of the impossible."

She laughed and was surprised to see that it was without malice.

"I'm likely using your bathroom now. Don't worry, I'm not frivolous, I never spend two hours in there. I may be a noble but I know how to adapt myself to situations." Jindosh did not notice, not understanding the intention in this precision. Accustomed to cultivating an image, the Inventor's opinion counted and Emily wanted to prove that she was neither fragile nor delicate. She despised the indolent and apathetic bourgeois enough, so it was out of the question to look like them.

Emily found a hair pike and removed the pen that served as her attachment.

"By the way, I can give you this back. It still works, promised."

"It seemed to me that I had forgotten to tell you to do like home, but maybe I told you finally?"

"The next time you're away, you'll have to order your soldiers that the Emily Kaldwin profile should not touch the pens!"

Emily had just finished combing her hair. She would have liked to have a mirror, just to recognize her profile.

"I'm going to stop borrowing your shirts too. Even if this one suits me pretty well, black is my color."

"Black's the color of all Dunwall's nobles. Although you are less austere."

Jindosh recognized that Emily was far from the imagined heiress: she was daring and had a lot of humor, maybe too much for a future empress. Finally, she was certainly mischievous enough to understand the riddles of his field.

"I don't want to be called Emily the Morose. But tell me your day: you inquired to find me a donor?"

"You'll certainly be called Emily the Curious." Jindosh replied, carrying the suitcase while Emily rolled her chair. He agreed to leave the effects of the heiress in his bathroom: it would take too much space in the laboratory and when Emily had legs, the recovery period would be long, forcing her to live in the mansion for a while. He must get used now to this presence which invaded him little by little.

"It concerns me after all."

"True. But every thing in its time: before finding a potential donor, I've to train and try the experience on another subject."

At least the scientist was honest. She was afraid to drag him on this subject of conversation, knowing that she was incapable of playing the convincing ignorant.

"You mean you're going to cut a body in half and stitch it up?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you have a lot of knowledge of anatomy?"

"More than you imagine."

"Your sex life doesn't count, Jindosh."

Jindosh stopped, surprised, not expecting this answer.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm joking! You were also a pupil of Anton Sokolov, weren't you? The difference between us is that you have retained your lessons while I mostly remembered his bawdy humor. It has also a little rub off on mine—"

"I could have recognized the register, yes. I didn't think our future Empress was so—"

"Free?"

"Yes."

"You're so serious all the time, there's no better victim than you for this kind of humor. But perhaps, in your opinion, the nobles are only entitled to subtle jokes and silent laughter?"

"Your humor doesn't bother me, it just— surprised me."

"Then I'm sorry. It's because I need to laugh nowadays, otherwise I'll go crazy thinking about this operation."

"You don't have to feel so bad about it: if the first attempt succeeds, everything will be fine for you."

"Did you find someone then? Why is she not here?"

"She'll arrive tomorrow."

"And if the experiment works, when do you think you'll operate me?"

"As soon as we find a donor. For now, I'll try the experiment tomorrow. Then I could visit some hospitals or dispensaries. The director of the Royal Conservatory gives a little evening the day after tomorrow, I'm unfortunately obliged to go, which shifts a little, but the next day, I'll find a pair of legs to replace your fishtail."

"It's so charming, said like that."

Once in the room, Emily activated the lever herself to access the bathroom. Jindosh suspected that she had already explored this part but was disappointed that she made no comment. Not the shadow of a compliment.

"It's curious: you seem to despise me because I was born in the highest social class, yet I don't really look like women of the nobility, while you, you behave like a noble to be always so stilted. I thought about it during your absence: Jindosh, it's not a name that has often marked the luxurious parties in history, is it?"

"That's right, I come from a rather modest family."

"And yet, you're invited to the Royal Conservatory for a private party. In your place, I will be already thinking about a contagious disease to avoid going there." She smiled, her fist under her chin. "Take a look at the spectacle we make: the modest man who seeks to integrate the higher spheres of society and the heiress of the throne who is delighted to flee the mundane evenings. What a contrast."

"You are completely mistaken, Lady Kaldwin. What do you think of this mansion?"

"I wanted to visit it but, you know, your soldier prevented me."

Jindosh pushed back the wheelchair and decided to show Emily the parts that visitors could see. His home was above his social conditions: never could a family member have lived in such an area without the work that had helped him to establish himself among the wealthiest.

The young woman could finally discover the guest room and the atrium which was a kind of personal museum. She noted how the place could be huge and yet so empty at a time. Jindosh explained that he had already organized auctions and receptions here, each time for the sole purpose of presenting his machines.

"I don't seek to integrate the higher spheres of society, as you say; I try to dominate them, to put them in front of a fact: material wealth is something that can be obtained or lost in a short time, intellectual wealth, on the other hand, remains an essential tool in the world. Why did I build such a mansion, in your opinion?"

"Because you're a twisted person, Jindosh." The Inventor laughed. He was used to this remark, but Emily did not have the horrified look the detractors often adopted.

"Apart from this obvious fact?"

"If you only wanted to expose your wealth, you wouldn't have made a mechanical maze. It was for the pleasure of building something complex, to show an intellectual wealth at the same time."

"A tribute to engineering, yes. To be absolutely frank with you, I don't care at all about politics and who's running it from Dunwall. Whether you're the next Empress or not, I don't care."

"I understood that you don't help me by social duty but for the challenge, yes."

"At least you don't delude yourself."

She observed the pieces of the old models of the clockwork soldiers: the metal organs were scattered in display cases.

"Societies aren't eternal and I hope the next generations will be led by scientists. It would be a totally different world then."

"Despite the ethics?"

"Despite the ethics."

Emily had to admit that she adhered to Jindosh's vision: the industry was invading even the most remote countryside, whale oil was a resource that was starting to fail and the empire would soon need minds capable of find a substitute. The face of the world was changing and a new era was beginning. The Industrial Revolution. On the other hand, she was against putting science above humanity.

"I understand what you mean. But there's a contradiction in your reasoning: your creations require significant funding, without material fortunes, they wouldn't exist. Even the greatest genius is invisible without the tools he needs. You may despise the richer classes, without them you would never have come so far, your mechanical soldiers wouldn't exist. You can't deny that you need financial wealth to access intellectual wealth."

"Of course. Money isn't an evil thing, Lady Kaldwin, it's about what it brings people to do or how it's spent. For example, I went to see the director of the asylum in Karnaca, this idiot doesn't even know what a fixed idea, and he's unable to locate the parietal lobe or the frontal lobe. He'll never advance the sciences that affect the brain and yet he is director."

Emily turned over, her arm on the back of her wheelchair. She was tempted to tell him that he was right: the power must be earned and not bought. She herself was haunted by her title, which she wanted to honor. But to confess it so frankly would be ridiculous. She put her hand on his wrist and tried another approach.

"I know you don't care if I'm the future Empress or not, but maybe you'll be glad to know that I share your point of view. If you succeed in the experiment, I'll remember this conversation on the throne and perhaps at last you'll enjoy a bit Dunwall's policy."

"Are you trying to rally a first subject, Lady Kaldwin?"

"Oh you know what it is, with these nobles: we're never sure of anything about their words."

He smiled, wanting to thank her but narrowly restraining himself: he did not want to flatter the future Empress too much.

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on the greasy floor, the witch hummed in a strange tongue. Her eyes were closed, her face reflected a great serenity.

"Hey. Shut up."

The guard was flipping through the newspaper. His chin almost touched his chest, making his voice even more gruff than usual. He was still hearing the woman's melody through the bars of the cell.

"Are you going to shut the fuck up?"

Rolling the newspaper, he hit the edge of the table with it, but the sorceress did not listen, stubbornly pursuing her song. The man groaned.

"I can't wait for the Royal Protector to arrive to question you. You won't sing the song anymore."

But when Corvo arrived, the guard showed up to him with a pale, even waxy face.

"Lord Corvo, I— I don't know how to explain it—"

Corvo looked over the jailer's shoulder and froze. In the middle of the cell, the witch's body was hanging. It was impossible to commit suicide in these prisons: there was no hook or beam and no material allowed this gesture. But there, a rose tree from outside had spread its branches into the cell, the bars at the window representing no obstacle. The leaves and thorns completely covered two walls and the ceiling, twisting on the cold stone. The dead woman's throat was wrapped in a beautiful necklace where blue roses had opened, concealing how the skin had been pierced by the plant darts. But the plants could not hide the blood that had flowed to the ground, soaking the witch's clothes: the trachea had been torn by the weight of the body too heavy for the embrace.

"I didn't even know they could do that, these witches." Said the guard in a plaintive voice, unable to look at the dead behind him. "I didn't even know."

"How is it possible?!"

But Corvo's surprise increased as he approached the cell. Behind the corpse, the flowers had opened and he did not know if he was going crazy or if it was real, the blue dots seemed to write 'AH AH AH'. He wanted to punch in one of the bars to express his anger, but his astonishment was far too great.

"How is it possible—"

The Royal Protector would have liked to get names, information, but the only answer he could get from this witch was the curious laugh that had appeared on the wall.

* * *

It seemed as if the sun had rushed to the horizon to hide in the Royal Conservatory. The stars in the sky were eclipsed by all the lights that escaped the huge windows, casting monstrous shadows in the streets and accentuating the height of the redwoods. Claudia was waiting for Billie to finish dressing. They had reconciled, as usual, waiting for the next storm. Claudia had tied her hair under a little top hat covered with clusters of wisteria. A puffy black blouse, transparent on the shoulders fell on white trousers. Billie, meanwhile, had opted for a shirt that imitated the shades of the sea at night and plain black trousers. She was finishing applying blue on her eyelids.

"I love when you wear bright colors. Blue and green suits you complexion."

"Thank you."

Claudia handed a chain necklace to her lover. A silver necklace, simple yet Billie considered it too bright.

"We don't have to do so much: we won't even be allowed to go past the hall anyway."

"I know, but this necklace would look beautiful on you."

Billie agreed to let the jewel pass around her neck. Claudia slid her hands over her strong shoulders and kissed that clenched mouth. Rancor still left a bitter taste on the lips.

"Let's go."

Claudia turned away and Billie noticed that the ivy branch bar was starting to come off her hair, slipping down to the neck covered with freckles. She held Claudia and with a clever gesture, enhancing the accessory. The two witches left their apartment and walked silently towards the museum. The nights when the Conservatoire was entertained were never quiet: they could hear the guests chirping like sparrows, the laughter bursting like little bells. Their ears even heard the music played by audiographs. The violin led the silhouettes to dance in the street, the feet preferring the cobblestones rather than the grass that surrounded the museum. Billie tried to sneak up the stairs but a busty woman hit her and pushed her away. Stumbling, Billie bumped into a tall man.

"Sorry."

He helped her to get on her feet.

"No harm meant."

He had almond eyes that gave him a feline look, confirmed by his fine mustache. Billie felt like a rat in front of a cat with a metallic look, so she moved away quickly.

"Damn, you just jostle the Grand Inventor of Duke Abele!"

"I didn't jostle anyone, I was pushed. I don't have fun stumbling over people."

"I know but this man has a strange reputation."

"I think I remember some rumors, but frankly, Claudia, it doesn't matter. If he tries to kill me just because of an accident, then it's just an asshole that's no better than the drunkards in the taverns."

The two women entered the museum. The statues, covered with wreaths of flowers, riveted in phlegm with waiters who held free cups of champagne. The guests were numerous, wearing their finery: rich fabrics adorned the body, supporting brilliant jewelry. Billie and Claudia, although pretty, preferred to keep low in this crowd. Some people took advantage of the event to improvise as a guide, others preferred to take a walk at night to enjoy the fresh air.

Breanna Ashworth went from group to group: the perfect hostess ensured that the evening was to everyone's taste. A service to ask? She listened. A compliment to receive? She smiled modestly. Her gloved fingers brushed those who saluted her, both available and inaccessible. The director of the Conservatoire was really a fascinating woman. Her eyes met Billie's, and the witch tilted her head for a discreet but respectful reverence. Billie had drawn her good graces unintentionally. Then the curator went to a duet where Billie recognized the man she had accidentally hit. Obviously, the Chief Inventor did not seem angry at all, at most thoughtful, a smirk on his lips.

"I don't feel that the Grand Inventor will try to kill me. He must rather have fun criticizing those around him. Look at the air he has."

"I understand him: look at the hat of the woman on his right? It looks like a hen stuck in a tube. And that color— what is this mixture of pink and green?"

Billie pressed her hand to her lips, choking a laugh she tried to turn into a coughing.

If Jindosh could see most of the guests, Amos Finch had more trouble on his side. The asylum director was hoping to get closer to one of the stairs to climb a few steps and get a better view. Breanna thought at first that the Inventor was alone and just caught up and extended her hand to both.

"It's a real pleasure to see you tonight."

"And it's a real pleasure to be welcomed by someone of your quality, Lady Ashworth."

Breanna called a waiter and offered her guests something to drink.

"While I think about it, doctor Finch, you know I still have this Millay painting you want to buy."

"Oh yes, that's right, that's right, Lady Ashworth. I'm sorry; I think I'll push back the purchase again. Do not hesitate to sell it to someone else if you find a better offer, you know I won't take it badly."

"Nonsense, I keep it until you have the sum, the painting will not change for a few more weeks."

"What I mean is that I started saving for another masterpiece. You see, our friend Jindosh here has made me a fairly large purchase lately and I just need a few more ingots in my pocket so I could finally afford one of these marvelous clockwork soldiers."

"Oh all this technology. This madness of the machines exceeds me." Breanna said, gulping down some sparkling wine.

"I'd be curious to know what you can do without technology, Lady Ashworth." Jindosh asked, staring at her. The director was not intimidated by this surgeon's gaze and her lips curved to draw a provoking smile.

"I could do everything, Jindosh. Absolutely everything."

A discreet verbal joust took place between the two: the first rejected the utility of the machines; the second vaunted the merits of the technology. They were too far away for Claudia and Billie to hear.

"Do you think Breanna is flirting with the Grand Inventor? I've never seen her like that in front of a man."

"I doubt." Replied Billie. "We can perfectly see that he's a man. Even if his cut looks vaguely like Delilah's, well, it's true. Oh shit, maybe you're right, she might invite him for a private interview."

Concealed in one corner, the two women laughed again. The groups around joked so much and spoke so loudly that they were finally rather discreet. But to their surprise, Breanna walked away with the little man, leaving Jindosh alone.

"Really, you're too generous, Lady Ashworth! Really too generous, too charitable. How can I accept your offer?"

"It's fine, doctor Finch and you know it. Your patients take you so much time, I can make a gesture to give you this picture and offer you some comfort. Especially since it will be beautiful in your home."

"I was thinking to find a system to hang paintings in my asylum office, it's very beautiful, as you know, but it lacks a little decoration."

"Don't do it! The sun's rays would damage the painting."

"Really?"

They had just arrived on the second floor and the noise of the guests was cut off, yet Amos Finch continued to speak loudly.

"A painting is a work of art to be cared for, doctor Finch: that's why the Conservatory is so dark, you have to protect the treasures from the sun's rays. I'll give you the indications to preserve this marvel of 1848."

"And I'll follow all your instructions to the letter. Absolutely all."

Breanna closed the door of her office behind her, letting her guest walk in the middle of the carpet. He admired this huge library and thought he should have the same. The witch scratched a match and lit a long purple candle. Strange symbols were engraved in the wax. A strange smell came out.

"What is this funny perfume?"

"Oh sorry, it's a candle that a friend brought me back from Pandyssia. It's the smell of a bay or something like that, I don't remember. It's a very relaxing fragrance, you don't think so?"

The witch was waiting for the scent to captivate the guest. Amos Finch tried to sit down but finding no seats, he fell back on the carpet. Breanna approached, supporting him.

"Do you feel ill, doctor Finch? The champagne was maybe too strong, and then all these steps have exhausted you—"

"I feel dizzy." His voice was plaintive.

The candle did not come from the distant continent but had been concocted by Breanna herself. In the wax had been mixed a magic decoction that managed to untie the tongue of the most sensitive, causing them to confess any crime. The witch liked to hear secrets, monitoring everything that was happening in Karnaca to better plant her claws in this region. Assuring her authority to Serkonos was to maintain a safe place for the return of her queen.

In addition, her intuition led her to discover what Jindosh was preparing: the Grand Inventor always jealously guarded his creations and sold them at a staggering price, Jessamine Kaldwin herself could not have bought more than three clockwork soldiers. What could Jindosh have bought from this so-called alienist? What asylum did the scientist lacked?

"Inhale deeply, doctor Finch, it's a little dizziness that will go away. Does your stomach hurt?"

"No."

"It isn't the champagne then, it's certainly the steps. Go ahead, inhale, inhale. Good. Breathe calmly, your dizziness will fade. Do you have clear ideas?"

"Yes."

"Who am I?"

"Breanna Ashworth, curator of the Royal Conservatory." His answers were pronounced on a monotone flow. The victim was hypnotized.

"And who are you?"

"Amos Finch, director of Karnaca asylum."

"And what did Kirin Jindosh buy you?"

"A patient. He wanted a young woman with no close family."

"For what purpose?"

"He didn't want to tell me, he's afraid that a failure is revealed."

"Is the patient at his home?"

"Yes, the operation is a success. But he didn't want to give me more details, just that my patient will return to my asylum in three days."

Breanna patted Finch's cheek.

"You're perfectly well, doctor Finch. Keep breathing, the spell will pass."

She left the man lying on the carpet, blew out the candle and opened the window for the scent to dissipate. The enchanted would be released in a few minutes once his lungs breathed a purer air.

"I'm so sorry, Lady Ashworth, I don't know what I have."

"Don't apologize, doctor Finch, a discomfort can happen to anyone. Stay here as much as you want. As soon as you feel better, join us in the lobby. And I promise you to do not tell anyone about sleeping on my carpet."

Breanna left her office and tried to master a quiet rhythm. Returning to her guests, she saw Jindosh talking to some people. But it was Billie she was looking for. She found her adept near the entrance who shared a cigarette with Claudia. The director asked her to follow her apart.

"Billie, I need you tonight. Do you know where the Grand Inventor's mansion is?"

"Yes. Difficult to miss seeing how it's visible."

"Go right now, I trust you for an investigation. I don't know how long he plans to stay this evening but it's a real night bird and unless he's bored, he won't leave before two in the morning. You have more than five hours to discover what he's hiding: his friend Finch told me that the Inventor had bought him a young lunatic for an experiment."

"Is it really surprising when you know the reputation of the guy?"

"Not really, it's the sum paid which is surprising: it's a project that must be really important to him, but he usually works on mechanical subjects and not alive. And when he touches a human body, he doesn't worry about the survival. There's something very weird about it, so find out what's going on."

"I beg your pardon, Lady Ashworth, but why me? And alone?"

"You know how to fight and you're smart. The mechanical manor has some pitfalls so be very careful. First, aim for his laboratory in the solarium and extend your search if you can't find anything. Unfortunately, this part of his home is kept away from the eyes of others and I've no more information. I want you to come back to me safe and sound. I trust you."

Billie saw Claudia's annoyed face pulling nervously on the cigarette.

"I'm going right now."

* * *

Billie knew a few stories that had been made around the Inventor's twisted mind, but she knew it all too well: rumors were always woven by bad tongues and they did not always reflect the truth. Only a small part most of the time.

Armed with her knife and other accessories to facilitate her infiltration, Billie decided to go through the roof of the house, making a tour of the property from the top. The solarium looked like a round cliff, hiding among the trees. Focusing on balance rather than speed, Billie took care where she put her feet, otherwise the fall in the wooded valleys would be fatal. Lamps were lit, indices of activity. She turned to the dark areas, the sleeping parts of the mansion.

Billie discovered a wide open balcony and slipped into it. Tables, chairs— everything was present to bask in front of a landscape that was to be beautiful. Either this comfort area was for the guests or Jindosh kept it for him. Metal shutters prevented Billie from seeing the next room and confirming her suspicions. Leaning over the guardrail, she saw the solarium.

"Perfect."

Climbing on a pipe, Billie reached the building she was aiming for. A rusty hatch resisted for a few moments, but as she persevered, the spy spun the iron panel and slid inside, finding an elevator in front of a locked door. The wooden shutter would not have resisted two powerful kicks, but as long as she did not know if she was alone, Billie did not risk it.

Rather than going in the elevator, the intruder took the risk of climbing through the cables. She heard nothing, except the sound of machines. Sentinels or household robots? Billie was hoping for the second option. Through the fence, she saw a place where the facilities were side by side: the intruder could deduce that she had arrived in the heart of the laboratory. Without a sound, Billie passed her head but a clockwork soldier was on patrol. Above, there was a balcony that she could access by resuming her way with the lift cable. She decided to reach this last floor.

Her hands full of grease, the shirt and the pants ruined, Billie really hoped to be alone to use the elevator for leaving after. Walking along the walls, she discovered the balcony. And a silhouette in a wheelchair. A brunette woman with her head bent over something. Billie swallowed a grunt of disappointment. Her knife in hand, she moved slowly towards the woman. It was certainly the insane and, for having already fought with a paranoid, Billie was suspicious of unstable minds, preferring to approach with caution.

As she went further, she noticed that the young woman was reading a book, caught in her reading, elbows on a fishtail. A fishtail? Billie froze when she realized that in the wheelchair was Emily Kaldwin, the heiress metamorphosed by Delilah.

She tried to remember what Claudia had told her. Yes, she remembered now: humiliation and beauty together. A pattern that the witch loved, destroying to build even more beautiful. And for once, Billie shared Claudia's fascination: she judged the heiress magnificent.

Fascinated by this siren, the intruder was unable to approach or hurt her.


End file.
